


The Warmth of a Winter's Sun

by katalizi



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Medieval Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 08:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 72,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11032515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katalizi/pseuds/katalizi
Summary: A marriage of convenience between a high queen and a solider-turned-lord sets to upend old traditions, begin new relationships, and change the course of an ancient war.





	1. Chapter 1

 

The night’s air had such a bitter, cutting edge to it that it even made Lord Coulson shudder slightly and tug his fur-lined cloak a little tighter. A part of him remembered a younger man who had declared an immunity to any and all type of weather, but that man now seemed almost lost to the shadows of the past and so very far away, particularly after the news he’d just received from King Fury. Unexpected, life-altering news scratched out in a few brief lines, delivered to him just a short time earlier, had left him more numb inside than any frost could hope to achieve. Numb, but still able to serve as duty dictated. Duty. He paused at the thought and drew in a deep breath, the icy air soothing in a strange way. What a hell of a duty was now thrust upon him.

The walk through the encampment was a brief one and he passed by the rows of tents where equally cold and dutiful soldiers were eating, gambling and exchanging stories, huddling around small fires in a way to not only ward off the cold of the night, but the unknowable, fearful future that awaited them. That the Armies of Hydra were now actually roaming the earth in reality and not just in some children’s story was enough to strike fear into even the most hardened of hearts, and there was now a mad scramble between neighbouring kingdoms for allegiances. With new treaties being negotiated and old debts being called in, all while Hydra loomed like a shadow over everything, no-one was quite sure of their place in the world anymore and there had been more than one count of in-fighting that had frustrated Coulson to no end. After the eventful encounter with King Talbot Coulson had thought that nothing else could faze him. He’d been very wrong.

“Are the rumours true, then?” Young Daisy had materialised by his side as if by magic, although Coulson knew her particular brand of magic was anything but subtle. Which truly suited her.

“Rumours?” Coulson grimaced. “Really? Already? I’ve only just received the summons myself.”

“Soldiers talk faster than lords,” shrugged Daisy, keeping close to Coulson’s side and ignoring all the wondrous looks that followed her as she passed by. People might’ve heard many stories of the magical beings called Inhumans but actually seeing one — and a powerful one at that — did tend to alarm even the most harden soldier. “And you yourself mentioned that it might be a possibility.”

“There is a vast chasm between possibility and reality, Daisy,” said Coulson. “And in reality …” He paused in his stride and for the first time allowed her to see his genuine concern. “I didn’t expect this.”

Daisy gave him a small smile of support and reached out to grasp his hand. Once again, this action caused those who didn’t know better to raise their eyebrows. Everyone had heard the stories of the Lord of the Shield who had adopted and raised a wild witch, but seeing it still shocked. They were equalled ignored.

“May I accompany you?” she asked softly.

“I believe Fury would be more suspicious if you didn’t,” smiled Coulson.

Soon they were both inside King Fury’s lavish war-tent, a large warm space where a group of people already awaited them, standing about a splendid table where the current territories and battles were marked out. King Fury stood at the head, a powerful, commanding presence that age couldn’t yet touch and a stare that wasn’t dulled by the lack of an eye. Three new comers were gathered on the far side of the table, two younger attendants who eyed both Coulson and Daisy with open wariness and an older woman who radiated a cold calm that made the night’s air seem like a springtime breeze. As Coulson walked in his gazed locked unexpectedly with hers and for an instant the two of them froze. Others in the room saw the surprise; no-one saw the recognition. After a second’s hesitation Coulson carefully bowed his head in deference, never once breaking his gaze. Her eyed widened a fraction but other than that, she didn’t move.

Fury nodded towards him in a way that almost seemed friendly and Coulson didn’t miss how the cold woman seemed to note that. “Lord Coulson. Thank you for arriving so soon. And Daisy Johnson.” As he said her name he smiled in his own particular way, but Coulson was sure the three new comers didn’t see it. “An unexpected pleasure, to be sure, but still … it is better that you are here for this. Allow me to introduce you to the Lady Simmons, her escort Sir Fitz and … her Majesty Queen Melinda.”

“Your majesty,” said Coulson respectfully as he sketched out a more formal bow to his previous one. After a pointed look from him Daisy bowed too.

Queen Melinda and her party remained unmoved, and Coulson was sure he wasn’t imagining the look of contained hostility that was radiating from the younger pair, particularly the Lady Simmons. 

She proved him correct as she turned to Daisy and without preamble said, “Daisy Johnson? Just that? Why, did the _Lord_ never think to grant you a title?”

Coulson shot an amused look towards Fury who responded in kind, both too old to engage in such petty bickering yet still able to be amused by it. Queen Melinda remained almost suspiciously still. Daisy, however, was much quicker to the bait.

“I neither desire nor require a title,” she bit out, head high. “A title is meaningless if you are lacking in personal strength to see your will done.”

The Lady nearly sneered at this. “Oh yes, we’ve heard all about your ‘strength’, but I’m afraid that none of us are wide-eyed peasants who’ll quake at your magic.”

Suddenly Lady Simmons gave a shrill shout as the ground beneath her sprung a foot out of the ground, propelling her up, backwards and thankfully into Fitz’s waiting arms. In the next instant the ground sealed shut as if nothing had ever happened. Daisy smirked at their shocked faces.

“Oh I don’t know. I think I can make you quake a little.”

And the whole time Melinda had watched the proceedings closely, and Coulson had watched her.

Fitz recovered quickly as he had his sword drawn before anyone could react, but Coulson couldn’t allow this to go any further as he quickly stepped forward, hands out-stretched.

“Enough!” he said. He turned his gaze to Melinda. “Tell your man to stand down; you’ve seen what you wanted to see … and next time? Just ask Daisy for a demonstration of her incredible magic. If you ask nicely she’s usually more than willing.” He turned away from Melinda’s barely contained surprise to Daisy, who had quickly gone from smug to embarrassed, face flushed. “Don’t rise so quick to other’s baits,” he said softly before turning his attention back to the three, his voice suddenly like steel. “And if you antagonise my ward again I will bring you horrors that you’ve only dreamed of.”

“And this is exactly how I hoped this meeting would go,” said Fury, sarcasm dripping from his words. “If we’re done with our posturing I’d like to get down to matter at hand.” He gestured for them to all move closer to the table and they did so, with only the three youngsters still wary. “Queen Melinda hails from Trillieon,” he pointed to a section of the map that was marked by a series of mountains, but while Coulson kept one eye on the map, most of his attention was fixated on Melinda. Whether or not she knew or cared that he was watching her, he couldn’t tell. “It’s one of the most isolated kingdoms in the region and the smallest.” Daisy snorted at this and Fury fixed his stare on her. “Don’t be fooled — Trillieon has withstood invasion and conquest for nearly three hundred years and the Queen here is descended from a line that goes back even further than that. They are a formidable people from an incredibly inhospitable region who would make a significant ally.”

“But you’re not just looking for a treaty, are you?” Everyone turned towards the Queen as she spoke for the first time, her voice beautiful and cold, laced with an unspoken accusation.

“No,” said Fury without a shred of regret. “Because the Trillieon people, particularly their royalty, have been known in the past to be … how should I put it …?”

“Traitorous,” said Daisy flatly.

Fitz slammed his fist against the table. “Apologise!”

Daisy laughed. “Or what? You’ll wave your little knife at me again?”

“Enough!” snapped the Queen, her icy facade cracking for just an instant, causing the entire room to still. Even Fury looked mildly impressed. Melinda took a breath before continuing in her cool manner. “It’s true that we have … a reputation. But I am not my fore-mothers. Our lands that border yours have not seen conflict in nearly a hundred years because _we_ have kept the peace. And those that border the lands of Hydra haven’t been breached in nearly two hundred. If our two nations become allies then we will be able to protect your lands to the south.”

“And if you betray that trust, Hydra will have an open pathway right into my domain,” said Fury coldly.

Melinda’s eyes flared in anger. “So you’re going to hold our ancestors grudge against us?”

“I’m just learning from past mistakes,” shot back Fury. “And so should you. Yes, Trillieon hasn’t been invading in three hundred years, but I know what happened the last time you were.” At this the Queen’s face lost all its colour. “No-one came to your aid and you were left to burn. Now we have actual soldiers of Hydra wandering free and you’re going to let your pride ruin your only chance for safety?”

“Trillieon has weathered these storms before,” said Melinda, head high, but Coulson could see she was shaking.

“No you haven’t,” said Fury, his voice surprisingly gentle. “Not like this.”

For the entire exchange Coulson had been watching her closely as another image of this cold woman drifted through his mind. Of long ago, when she was younger, roughly dressed, a woman who laughed and played practical jokes on a young man as he struggled to keep up with her. Another memory, the shock of a fist to his side and her screams as she told them to _stop_ , the title of princess floating past as if in a dream, a strange sense of confusion and doubt as he wondered who was she, really? Moments in times, rising again from a twenty year slumber, a youthful adventure cut short. He hadn’t seen her since, but he’d recognised her anywhere. And he knew she had recognised him.

 _What happened to you?_ he wondered silently, surprised at how his heart twisted at the thought. _Where did that light-hearted, excitable girl go?_

Aloud, he finally spoke. He tried to keep his tone light and teasing. “Am I truly such a terrible option that you’d rather risk invasion?”

At her shocked look he knew he’d failed to inject joviality into the situation and he felt his heart sink. _I don’t want to hurt you_ , he thought, the words desperate to come forward, but in the current situation he knew they’d be unwelcome. Fury quickly tried to correct his mistake.

“As badly put as that is, he’s right,” he said. “Marriage with Coulson means that you would then be part of the Shield as a matter of blood, not just ink. He is of a lesser rank so you would not have to relinquish sovereignty yet he is also a member of my Court, so my concerns about your possible betrayal would be greatly relieved. You must see that this is your best option.”

“You present it as my only option,” said Melinda through gritted teeth.

“Not really. We could get married, combine our domains.” Lady Simmons’ jaw-drop was almost comical and Coulson heard Daisy choke on her laugher. “But I don’t think either of us are prepared to move. Or we could invade you.” Any amusement died, as everyone could see that Fury was serious. “Sure, you’ve held us back for one hundred years but last I heard Trillieons didn’t have any Inhuman residents — actually fear them more than most — and Daisy here isn’t the only magic soldier we have. Or go it alone. As far as you can.”

Melinda held her chin high for a few moments longer before a terribly sad sigh escaped her lips and she bowed her head in defeat. Next to her Simmons and Fitz looked devastated and even Daisy was quiet in respect. After a few moments the Queen raised her head high once more and looked directly at Coulson, her gaze hard and heartbreaking. “And you? You’re happy to be a pawn in all this?”

Coulson didn’t shy from her gaze and met it with understanding. “Am I happy? That I’m part of a treaty that’s going to force a woman into an unwilling marriage?” He stopped and sighed. “No. Not at all. I am truly sorry that this is happening to you.”

“And is that it?” asked Melinda, and it seemed like something light and delicate started to reach out from her to him. “All this sorrow for me, none for yourself?”

He paused. “I never wed. I have no family but Daisy. I’ve spent so much of my life travelling that I’ve never really had a home. I do not believe that I would miss anything, and no-one would miss me. But you have an entire people that rely on you, and if they’re half as loyal as these two,” he nodded at Simmons and Fitz, “Then you are not only loved, but needed. Your Majesty … this is your best option. I wouldn’t interfere. We’ll be husband and wife in name only, but I will serve you as faithfully as if you had chosen me.”

The wind whispered mournfully around the tent. Coulson felt as if they were planning an execution rather than a wedding. Finally, Melinda spoke.

“Very well.” Her voice was soft but resolute. She turned to Fury. “I consent.”

Coulson felt his shoulders drop. He’d never thought he’d be married like this.

“That’s it?” He turned at Daisy’s outburst and was startled to see her shaking with rage. “You’re just going to … leave?”

“Daisy … of course not.” He reached out a calming hand. “But I didn’t want to speak for you.”

She blinked hard before a wave of understanding came over her. “You want me to come?”

“Yes,” he smiled at her before he turned back to the Trillieons. “And this is non-negational.”

Simmons scoffed and threw up her hands. “A second ago you said you wouldn’t interfere, and now you want to bring a witch into out home?” she cried. “Trillieon is the last place in the world that doesn’t have Inhumans yet you want to —”

“Of course you can accompany him,” Melinda addressed Daisy, her quiet voice cutting across Simmons in an instant. “After all, as he said … she is family.” Something about her gaze softened for a moment as she looked upon Daisy, before she straightened and abruptly declared, “It is late, and we’re still recovering from our journey. Lady Simmons will review the marriage contract, if it pleases you, and tomorrow we will reconvene and agree on the specifics.” She fixed her gaze again on Coulson, once more ice and steel. “And we’ll be married.”

Not knowing what to say to that, Coulson merely bowed low once more and before he had straightened his back she had departed.

Now they were in purely familiar company, Fury sighed deeply and walked away from the table towards a chest. “I am sorry, Coulson, for how this come about, but I won’t pretend that I’m not also grateful to you.” After digging about the chest for a few moment he emerge with an ancient bottle of liquor, which he handed to Coulson without ceremony. Coulson recognised it right away.

“Gods,” he muttered. “If I knew my marriage would’ve made you part with Elder Whiskey, I would’ve married years ago.”

Fury smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Share it with your new wife.”

Later, as he and Daisy walked back to their tents, she spoke so softly that he missed it at first.

“Pardon?”

“I said …” she drew a deep breath. “You were wrong before. You would be missed. I would miss you.”

Coulson paused just outside his tent, then wordlessly pulled Daisy in for a hug. As they pulled back he smiled sadly at her. “How do you feel about becoming the only Inhuman in an entire domain?”

She shrugged. “I guess it’s just going to be like it was here years ago. Not fun, but I’ll manage.” She tilted her head as she studied him. “And you? You seemed … I don’t … kind of surprised when you saw Melinda.”

“You noticed that?” She nodded. “I was. You might not believe it, but we’ve actually met before.” Her eyes widened. “It’s true. I knew her years ago.”

“Strange that you should meet again like this, right?” said Daisy, a faint smile teasing him. “Almost like —”

“If you say ‘fate’, I’m leaving you behind!” Coulson jabbed a faux angry finger in her direction and she laughed. They had never agreed on the finer points of the universe but had long ago accepted their differences.

“Well, tonight certainly was interesting,” she said, her laughter fading.

Coulson sighed, suddenly weighed down by events that were yet to happen. His mind flickered towards Melinda and he found himself wondering what she was doing at that exact moment. Did she weep? Did she rage? No, for some reason all he could do was picture her reading the marriage contract with Simmons and Fitz, going over the finer details in a calm and controlled manner. Did he feature in her thoughts tonight? He didn’t fatter himself to think so.

“Yes,” he agreed, his mind elsewhere. “Very interesting.”

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 

Silence hung softly in the night air as Melinda made her way deftly though the unlit halls of her castle, a thick fur lined coat that draped down from her slim shoulders to skim across the floor hiding the fact that she merely had her nightgown on underneath and nothing else. It was well into the early hours of the morning and she had ultimately given up on the idea of getting even a few hours of sleep, even though she was finally back in her own bed for the first time in a little over two weeks. Her own soft, comfortable, overly large, cold and empty bed. The familiar sights and smells of home had done nothing to sooth her ragged nerves to slumber and eventually she knew that  the only way she was going to rest tonight was if she saw him, talked to him, if only for a moment.

The only light she encountered was when she passed through the dark kitchens and out one of the more secluded side doors that was under the watch of two young and somewhat bored guards in the middle of a card game, both of whom jumped to attention when they saw their queen.

“Majesty,” nodded one, a swordswoman by the name of Piper, who always seemed a little out of step whenever she encountered Melinda. Nevertheless she knew to keep her voice low as not to disturb the quiet night around them as she asked the question she already knew the answer to. “Will you be requiring an escort?”

“No,” murmured Melinda, shaking her head and pulling her cloak a little tighter as the outside air bit at her face before she passed by with barely a whisper, the two guards only returning to their game when she turned the corner and out of sight. All of the Queens Guards knew that she was prone to these sort of nocturnal wanderings, and even though they had become less frequent in the passing years in times of great stress she was known to repeat them. It had become a rule among the guards that they would never speak of it to anyone; not even the Queens closest advisors knew of these midnight journeys.

Clouds had sat fat and foreboding above them for most of their journey homeward and just this evening a light dusting of snow had started to flicker downwards, leaving a thin, white coating upon every surface that now glowed in the moonlight, whenever a break in the clouds permitted. Melinda knew Trillieon like she knew her own heart and saw that this was just the beginning of a what was going to be a long, dark winter, which she very much favoured. The roads into her domain that were perilous to pass would now become impossible, and they would be all but cut off from the outside world as well as whatever evil now ran free across those lands for at least four months. She felt a bitter twist in her stomach that translated to her face. Had she known the weather would’ve protected her domain, even for a short time, she would never have agreed to meeting with King Fury. Or to whatever terms he had thrust upon her.

Moving like a shadow Melinda quickly ducked from a connecting passage way to a courtyard that while glorious in summer was now nothing more than a winter-dead garden, all harsh angles of stripped trees and empty flowerbeds. From the courtyard she followed another passage to a more secluded, private garden. A heavy iron door, long out of use but still well maintained, swung forward with barely a whisper as she finally reached her destination.

Melinda paused for a moment as the silence around her seemed to gain a sort of weight that pressed upon her from all sides and her heart thumped hard and sorrowful against her ribs. And then, as she drew an icy breath to settle her, the moment passed. And she was simply where she needed to be.

Kneeling by the grave she gently brushed some fallen leaves off the tombstone and quietly whispered, “Hello, my love.”

Eleven years ago, after years of doubt and wondering, Queen Melinda had fallen in love. And no-one was more surprised than her. After the shock death of her parents and her ascension to the throne at such a young age she had thought of herself as married to her domain, her people and her nation taking precedence over anything else, including whatever trivial pleasures she might wish to pursue for herself.

And then she had met Andrew.

He was wise, handsome, brave and kind, and he ignited feelings within her that she’d only ever encountered in her youth. Within three months they were wed, and the ensuing celebrations had swept across her domain for weeks afterwards. And for five years they were extremely happy.

Then six years ago, he was killed. A skirmish on the southern boarders. They never found the culprits.

Melinda had felt as though she might never cry again, so many tears being spent at learning of her loss, and so far this had proven to be true. Her people saw her as kind, but cold, strong yet immensely sad. They loved her, yet in their heart of hearts, they pitied her.

“I have so much to tell you,” she continued, her voice soft in this sacred space. The moon had  completely disappeared now but the darkness failed to troubled her. While never an overly superstitious woman she did sometimes feel as though she truly was closer to Andrews’ soul when she came down here by herself, though she couldn’t admit this to anyone. She swallowed as her voice shook slightly over the next words, words she didn’t want to say. In her mind’s eye she saw Andrew smiling down at her, giving her the strength she needed. “I … I was wed over a week ago.”

Wed, standing in a cold, dingy tent, surrounded by foreign lords and apathetic soldiers who hardly knew of nor cared for Trillieon, officiated by a short, round man called Koenig who was barely able to string the words of the Trillieon marriage rights together. Lady Simmons had stood by her side, stoic and tight-lipped, and Melinda knew it was only by sheer force of will that she wasn’t crying in despair. Though she had made her own feelings on the subject well known the night before.

 _“This is a disgrace!” she had snarled, practically throwing the marriage contract away from her in disgust. “I know you’ve agreed to this but … your majesty … you can_ not _agree to this!”_

_Even through everything this passionate young woman still managed to bring a wry smile to Melinda’s face. “Have you found a problem with the contract?” she’d asked mildly._

_“He’s a_ lord _!” Simmons had exclaimed, as if that were all the fault she needed to find. She begun to pace in agitation. “And not even of blood! He was nothing more than a common mercenary before Fury decided, for some strange reason, to elevate him well beyond his statues with a title. What land he ever acquired, he gave away again and he has almost no finances to his name. Not even a bloody ring for an heirloom!” She’d paused, almost panting with indignant rage as her eyes shone bright. “You must see that he is so beneath you that even suggesting marriage is an insult.”_

_Melinda had calmly watched this entire tirade from where she was seated, marvelling at how very much Simmons was in some ways behaving just like her own mother had all those years ago, and wondering at the strangeness of the world that they should so rail against the same man. In her youth Melinda had been reckless and impulsive, and had actually abandoned her birthright when the weight of it had all become too much. She had been dragged back home after a month long adventure, dirty and worn and cowering beneath her parents joint fury at both her disappearance and the fact that she had been discovered in the company of a foreign commoner. She still recalled her mother’s indignant rage as she cried that it was an insult to her lineage to even think of associating with such rabble._

_It almost seemed as though Simmons was speaking for her mother’s own soul at that moment._

_Fitz had stood still and wide-eyed during her tirade, twisting his hands as if he desired nothing more than to take Simmons in his arms and sooth her, though would never dare to do such a thing in front of the Queen. When Simmons had finally stopped, Melinda had spoken. “In many ways I agree with you. If I had any say in this matter we would most certainly not be taking any excess baggage home with us.” At that Simmons managed a watery smile. “But we all know that this_ is _happening. It_ will _happen tomorrow and Trillieon will have its first foreign queen’s consort in two hundred years.” She’d risen, crossed the room to retrieve the contact from where Simmons had flung it and handed it back to her. “So I need you make sure that there will be no more unsavoury surprises in this contract. Other than the man himself.”_

_A few angry tears had managed to slip down Simmons face regardless. Finally she whispered, “It’s not fair to you, ma’am.”_

_Melinda had felt her heart swell as she saw her escort in actual pain for her, even though she herself had felt rather numb about the whole thing. Numb, resigned, and committed to her duty to her domain. She’d reached up and carefully brushed Simmons tears away. “Keep a brave heart, Jemma,” she’d said. “And I’ll keep mine.”_

That numbness had sustained her as she extended her hand and Lord Coulson had captured it, his own hand rough and calloused, firm and steady. She was surprised, however, when without hesitation he moved his grip to slide his hand down and curl his fingers around her wrist, his palm now underneath her arm while hers lay over his. The traditional bonding hold that was unique to a Trillieon marriage. For the first time since the ceremony began her eyes flickered to his, the unspoken question clear, and he’d just smiled ever so slightly.

Whether he had learnt this to comfort or support her she had no idea, but whatever the case it had the opposite of its desired effect. She felt as if a lead weight had dropped into the pit of her stomach as she fought the sudden panicked urge to wrench her arm out of his grasp, even though he held her with a gentleness she didn’t expect from a career soldier. She’d quickly snapped her eyes away from his, refusing to look at his face for the rest of the ceremony as her heart warred with her mind. A youthful meeting meant nothing years after the fact. This man was a stranger to her and her land, and he had no right to act out traditions he didn’t understand. She was certain that she was trembling although she made move to acknowledge that, barely acknowledged the man in front of her even as she dully repeated the pledges that bound her to him. The whole time images of her first wedding flashed through her mind … the warmth of the summers day, the beautifully decorated temple that was overflowing with flowers of all kinds, the constant low roar of the thousands of people just outside who had come from far and wide to finally see their queen wed, a roar that had risen to such a giddying cheer when they emerge, hands bound, that Melinda could still feel that cheer in her bones to this day, a cheer that set her laughing as she swung from her new husband’s arm … Andrews’ radiant smile …

She kept her gaze fixed somewhere above Coulson’s left shoulder, even as Koenig tied the bonding ribbon around their overlapped wrists perhaps a little tighter then she would’ve liked.

And then it was over. They were married. And within an hour her party had gathered everything together and set forth on the road home, a few of her guards leading, her and Simmons in a sturdy yet comfortable carriage behind them, her entourage following leaving Coulson and Daisy at the very end. Which had elicited no small amount of discussion amongst her people, seeing as how the Queen’s consort should ride in front of her carriage as part of the guard, yet when they had made it clear that the precession had no place for an Inhuman Coulson had chosen to ride at the back with Daisy. Simmons had nearly cracked a tooth she’d clenched her jaw so tight.

“I knew it,” she’d muttered. “Look at them … so brazen …  and only hours after the marriage … have they no decency?”

This however, didn’t bother Melinda in the least. She’d already assumed that the reason Coulson wanted Daisy with him was because the two of them were somehow involved. He said he wouldn’t interfere with her affairs, so it was just common curtesy that she should refrain from interfering with his. Besides, they weren’t married, not in the true sense of the word. This was nothing more than a complicated treaty.

Melinda pressed her hand against the cold earth beneath the tombstone, her palm nearly stinging at the icy contact. She smiled to herself and continued. “Never fear, this wedding was nothing in comparison to ours.” Her smile faded. “But I wish you were here. You always kept me level headed, always stopped me from making foolish mistakes or …” A wave of shame washed over her. “… behaving in an unjust manner.”

The journey homeward had been a tense affair that was not in any way helped by Melinda’s own cold, indifferent attitude towards the two new additions to their procession, an attitude that all her own people had seen fit to imitate. She was angry and upset, still reeling from a degrading marriage ceremony and worst of all, feeling in some strange way as if she were betraying the memory of her first husband — her true husband, as she now thought of him. All that hurt and pain had focused itself on the man who represented it and even though she knew it wasn’t fair, that he hadn’t directly caused it, she unleashed all her frustrations upon him. He had tried to tentatively approach her for the first couple of nights, first with Daisy and then alone, but each time she’d had Simmons or Fitz turn him back until he’d learnt to stay away. By the time they’d reached her home city of Moruya, late in the afternoon, both he and Daisy had been so utterly ostracised from the entire group that when she’d swept up the stairs without a backwards glance no-one had even seen fit to properly introduce them to the staff of her castle.

Desperate to regain some sense of normality, of control, Melinda had quickly shed her travelling gear for some more refined attire and had summoned her stewardess to attend her in the throne room with the intention of being brought back up the speed with the domains business that she’d missed. Her stewardess Lady Rodriguez, an incredible beauty who used that facade as a mask for her sharp wit and deadly intelligence, managed to arrive at the room just before Melinda and therefore awaited her with an arm full of documents and a faint expression of pity and distress that was becoming all too familiar to Melinda as her people slowly became informed of her marriage.

“Welcome home, your majesty,” said the Lady smoothly. “And should I offer congratulations — or condolences?”

“Neither,” said Melinda in an almost petulant manner. “It’s not a matter of importance.”

One fine eyebrow quirked at this. “With all due respect, you just got married. There’s a lot of protocol that needs to be addressed, not to mention the fact the he’s a foreigner that needs to be educated on the laws of our land if he is to assist you —”

“He will _not_ be assisting me,” snapped Melinda. Rodriguez blinked in surprise at her tone and  upon seeing this Melinda struggled to control her anger. Anger that had been festering unchecked within her for over two weeks now. After a moment she continued more evenly. “Forgive me, Elena. I have been rather … unsettled … of late.”

Rodriguez dismissed her apology with a elegant half-shrug. “I understand. But you must know that you’re not alone in this feeling. Ever since the herald arrived yesterday ahead of your procession with news of Trillieon’s new treaties and your _marriage_ , everyone’s been unsettled. I believe that integrating this Lord Coulson into our traditions and ways as quickly as possible, as well as the two of you showing a united front to the people, would go a long way to alleviating the concerns of many.” She paused a moment. “Particularly considering the Inhuman who has accompanied you.”

Melinda shook her head. “I don’t believe the Inhuman will be of any great consequence, to be honest.”

And just as she said that, a low yet powerful tremor rattled the castle to its very foundations.

Both women looked around, startled, as hangings shook on the walls and dust floated down from the ceiling. Rodriguez then fixed Melinda with a disbelieving stare that said more than words ever could.

The shaking lasted moments only, but the effects of it could be heard all across the castle with people yelling and running for cover from a force they barely understood, and as Melinda heard her people’s fear she felt her anger sharpen. As she turned to Rodriguez, an order to bring Coulson to her already forming on her lips, she heard a different kind of shouting coming from the hallway outside and soon enough the very man she would have summoned burst into her throne room without even a hint of reverence for the place, still in his travelling gear, his face fixed in anger.

Her Head of the House, Mackenzie, was close on his heels and looked more than a little rattled himself. “Majesty,” he said, breathless. “They —”

“What is the meaning of this?” demand Melinda, unaffected by Coulson’s furious gaze that was now locked on her.

“You know, I could ask you the very same thing,” said Coulson as he strode towards her with such fierce intent that Melinda felt Rodriguez stiffen by her side in a way that she knew her stewardess was now reaching for one of her many concealed daggers. He only stopped within inches of her, breathing hard. “I know you have no regard for me — you’ve made that very clear this past week — but please, explain to me what exactly I have done to make you view me as such a degenerate?”

“First you’ll explain how you lost control of your little Inhuman pet less than an hour after entering my house,” she countered.

“That happened after I showed them their quarters,” Mackenzie said nervously.

“Yes,” said Coulson. “Our _shared_ quarters, with a single bed.” Absolute silence filled the hall, one that Melinda couldn’t break even as she stared defiantly back up at Coulson. But the seeds of doubt that began to take root in the base of her stomach must have translated onto her face because confirmation filled Coulson’s eyes as he shook his head and took a step back. “You truly thought that Daisy and I …?” He trailed off, unable to finish that sentence.

“You’re not her father,” said Melinda, but the words sounding ungainly and awkward as she spoke them.

“No, but she’s the closest thing I have to a daughter,” said Coulson, his own anger slowly fading away as he stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. “And to even suggest …” Once again his voice faded away before he regained his composure. “You really believed me to be capable of bringing a mistress right into your home?”

Although it was phrased as a question Melinda could tell that it needed no answer, and she began to feel a twisted barb of self-reproach press against her heart. Still, she tried to find an escape from this guilt. “Your only stipulation was that I allow an Inhuman into my domain. Of course we would assume that your relationship was a deeply personal one.”

“But you never cared to clarify the exact nature of it,” said Coulson. “She’s my child in every way but blood. To suggest anything else insults not only me, but her too, and that tremor? That is what happens when Daisy feels insulted.” He paused and for the first time Melinda saw beyond his anger, saw the very real hurt he was experiencing. “You know that beyond her companionship, I have nothing else. No lands, no great finances … not even a bloody ring for an heirloom.” Melinda jerked in surprise at that while Rodriguez and Mackenzie exchanged a puzzled look. He just smiled, faintly, sadly. “The Lady Simmons should know that tents don’t hold ones voice, and soldiers gossip. The world is a cruel place for those who don’t belong and I didn’t want to leave Daisy to its whims. Which you would know. If your cold nature had allowed you to know us at all.”

Melinda stared up at him, stunned by his words, ashamed of her actions, and after a few more moments of uncomfortable silence she tore he gaze from his face and address Mackenzie. “See that two separate quarters as made up for Coulson and Daisy.” She turned back to Coulson. “Satisfied?”

“Only on one point; I now think as little of you as you do of me.” And with that he turned and left the room.

Melinda, Rodriguez and Mackenzie stood there, shocked, feeling as if another earthquake had just rolled underneath them. Rodriguez broke the tension.

“What _happened_ between the two of you?”

“Nothing,” said Melinda, wearily, raising a hand to rub at her temple. She was such a fool.

“Nothing?” repeated Rodriguez incredulously. “I’m sorry, your majesty, but this doesn’t occur from nothing.”

“Nothing happened because I didn’t allow _anything_ to happen,” clarified Melinda, dropping her hand. “I was angry and wanted nothing to do with him. I ignored him.”

Rodriguez looked stunned. “For the entire journey?”

“Well, that explains why I was never informed of our newest guests — residents — requirements,” said Mackenzie. Melinda turned away as Rodriguez gave Mackenzie a pointed look to continue. “There were no royal orders so when the procession arrived there was no-one to meet them. Hunter informed me that they put their horses in the stables themselves, and they didn’t even have anyone to guide them through the castle until they requested to speak to the Head of the House. And I … I only had gossip from the guards to go on so …”

Rodriguez looked deeply disappointed in her queen. “Doing nothing certainly lead to some startling consequences.”

All the rage and injustice Melinda had been feeling for the past week drained out of her, replaced with a deep sense of guilt and regret at her behaviour, and with the loss of those fiery emotions that had fuelled her for so long a sudden sense of fatigue rushed up to claim her. She sighed deeply, abruptly desiring nothing more than peace and solitude. Her voice was incredibly soft when she spoke.

“Lady Rodriguez, I must ask for your forgiveness once more. I do not think I’m fit to conduct business today.”

Rodriguez bowed her head gracefully. “I thank you, majesty … but I am not the one who requires an apology, I think.”

Though she knew exactly what she thought, when Melinda left Rodriguez and Mackenzie she had every intention of simply returning to her quarters and loosing herself to some calming meditation or familiar books. She knew she had to seek out Coulson at some point but in her current state, both physically and emotionally exhausted, she couldn’t face the prospect of another meeting so soon with someone who clearly despised her.

So it seemed as if the Gods were playing with her as she neared her chambers and began to faintly hear some low chatter coming from one of the outer balconies that stood mere feet from her door. At first she thought it was maybe some servants seeking fresh air, or some guards on patrol, but as she got closer her heart sunk into her stomach when she realised that the very people she didn’t wish to see just happened to be situated just outside her chambers.

 _The Gods play with our misery_ , she thought bitterly. However, for reasons she herself didn’t know, she paused in precisely the right location to avoid detection from those outside even though she was close enough to her chambers to enter them without discovery. She knew eavesdropping was most certainly unbecoming of a queen, yet she couldn’t help herself.

“I don’t know why _you’re_ feeling any sort of regret,” came Daisy’s voice, anger still very evident in it but now it was contained, controlled. “You didn’t say anything that isn’t true and honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t loose your temper earlier.”

“I shouldn’t have lost my temper at all, Daisy,” said Coulson, and Melinda was surprised to hear genuine remorse in his voice. “And I certainly shouldn’t have said those awful things to her in the heat of it. I regretted them instantly but was too much of a coward to say so.” Beat. “I should find her. Make things right. Apologise.”

“What? No!” Daisy sounded as shocked as Melinda felt.

“She’s right to be upset, to be angry. A marriage of force is a terrible thing to endure —”

“But she is not the only one who is enduring it!” said Daisy, exasperated. “I know you, Coulson, and I _know_ you’ve been hurting just as badly over this as she has, but while you actually care for what she’s enduring she has made it abundantly clear that she cares nothing for you. You sacrificed a life of freedom so some little domain could have military protection and the queen treats you as if you were the cause of all her ills. Is that not worth _some_ anger?”

There was a long pause. Melinda could imagine him surveying the view, her trembling with indignation.

“It is a beautiful domain,” Coulson finally remarked.

“It’s cold,” said Daisy waspishly. “It’s a cold land for a cold people, under the rule of a cold queen.”

“I don’t think she’s cold, truly,” said Coulson softly. “Just … sad.”

Another pause.

“She’s never going to respect you,” said Daisy quietly, and with such touching despondency that Melinda felt that barb on her heart press closer. “You must know this, right?”

Coulson didn’t answer. But in that silence Melinda knew he agreed.

She slipped into her chambers unnoticed.

As she sat by Andrews’ grave she could no longer ignore the icy sting from her palm and removed it to tuck it back within her cloak. Snow had begun to fall in earnest as she had recounted these events and while it clung to her hair and dusted her shoulders she scarcely noticed it, instead feeling a profound sense of peace as she finally spoke of all her fears, concerns and regrets to the one person she trusted beyond all others. A sense of peace that was inevitably coupled with that deep sense of loss that she carried with her, always.

“I need to make things right with him,” she said, echoing Coulson’s own words. “But I don’t know where to begin.” In the quiet darkness she could almost hear Andrews’ voice whispering out to her; _So many things, good or bad, simply begin with the word ‘hello’_. But she knew this was no spirit, merely a memory of advice she’d already half forgotten. Advice that still had merit.

She stood, feeling the strain and relief pull at her muscles after sitting still for so long, and gently touched the tombstone once more in farewell. “Goodbye, my dear.”

Her return back to her chambers began uneventfully as she passed a respectful Piper back into her castle, sweeping as silent as a shadow through the halls so she soon reached her quarters — and then, in a parallel of that afternoon, she drew to a sudden stop as she saw that someone was already standing just outside her door. The exact same someone from that afternoon.

Coulson was lightly dressed in an open necked shirt and loose trousers in what Melinda could only assume were his nightclothes, although they didn’t look overly comfortable for their purpose, in her opinion. Perhaps his lifelong career as a soldier had lead to him to being in a constant state of alertness, that led to him basically sleeping in his clothes. He was standing by one of the large windows, staring out into the blue shadowed darkness, watching the snow fall as if mesmerised by it. Melinda had approached so quietly that he didn’t even notice her presence and after a few moments of containing her surprise and trepidation, she spoke.

“Hello.”

Coulson jumped nearly a foot into the air and turned to Melinda with such wide-eyed bewilderment that she only just managed to conceal a smile. _Oh, thank you, Andrew. Wonderful advice._

“Majesty,” he gasped out, keeping his voice low. He looked nervous, confused. “I — what are you doing out here?”

She felt her stomach twist itself into knots as her nerves overtook her. Nevertheless, she decided that some actual honesty could only help the two of them right now. “I … I sometimes take to walking by myself of a night. When I can’t sleep.” She paused, but Coulson seemed wary to continue the conversation. Considering her behaviour, she could understand that. “Those are my chambers,” she continued, pointing at the door opposite him. “Did you know that?”

“I — no,” he said. “I came here this afternoon, and I thought the view from this particular part of the castle was spectacular. My own chambers are just around the corner there.” He turned and pointed, and when he turned back seemed to be at a loss of how to continue for a moment before blurting out, “I couldn’t sleep either. I don’t know why because honestly, I’m exhausted. But … either the bed is too soft, or it’s just too quiet, or … maybe my mind is too loud now I have nothing to distract it with, but —”

“I’m sorry.”

This stopped his tirade only for a second. “What? No. Your majesty, _I_ should be the one apologising —”

“No,” said Melinda, quietening him once more. “What you said this afternoon … I understand that you were hurt, and you were angry, and that all came forward in a way that was ugly for both of us. But only one of us here was responsible for everything that led to that so please, let me own my actions. Coulson … I am sorry for how I treated you.”

Coulson just stared back at her, dumbstruck. After a long silence he finally managed to say, “Thank you, your majesty. And please believe me when I say if you have forgiven me for my foolish words, then you are well and truly forgiven for yours.”

“Or lack thereof,” said Melinda with the faintest of smiles. “And seeing as how we are husband and wife —” Her heart still twisted on those words, but not so painfully now. “— you must call me Melinda, at least in informal company.”

“Melinda.” He said her name as if the sound of it left as sweetness on his lips as he extended his hand towards her. “My name is Phillip.”

She took his cold hand for a moment before she this time slide her grip down to hold his wrist, and now it was his turn to look at her quizzically. “How did you know of the Trillieon marriage hold?”

“The night before our wedding, I asked Koenig about the rites and rituals of a Trillieon marriage,” he said, shrugging slightly. “The whole thing was so sudden and bizarre, particularly to you, that I thought some familiarity might bring you comfort.” He paused, and his grip loosened. “You … didn’t like it.”

“I was not prepared,” she admitted, although she tightened her grip of his arm. “This hold is much harder to break and carries much significance to my people.” She paused, finally letting him slip away. “It reminded me all too much of my first wedding. After Andrew’s death, I vowed never to marry again and yet there I was. ”

Coulson looked distressed. “I’m sorry.”

“Once again, not your fault,” said Melinda. “Though I made you shoulder the blame.” She paused a moment before she finally asked what she’d been wondering for a while. “So you truly never wed? Was that by fate or design?”

Coulson sighed. “A little of both. I never had much to offer someone, never even really had a permanent home, and there always seemed to be something that ended any romantic leanings short. Either she was too much of a solider like me, or dedicated to another craft …” And here a sudden twinkle entered his eye. “… or gets dragged back to her domain after playing at adventurer.”

Melinda’s smile blossomed into something beautiful as she shyly looked away. “Gods. I thought perhaps you’d forgotten about that.”

“Not a chance,” he smirked. “And don’t think I didn’t tell everyone I met for years afterwards of the time I travelled with a princess in disguise and she broke my nose.”

“I did not!”  she exclaimed softly, trying her best to keep her voice down even as she could feel unexpected laughter shake her.

“You did. There was blood and bruising. My profile was never the same.”

The two of them grinned at each other and it seemed as if the years between them were suddenly swept away. As Melinda gazed upon him she felt as though this were someone she could truly come to care for. But she would only start slow. “Do you think, that we could perhaps become friends again?”

Coulson nodded sincerely. “I very much hope so.”

Melinda smiled once more, ducking her chin into the fur-lined collar of her cloak as she turned towards her chamber door, before swinging back to Coulson on impulse. “If you read the Trillieon marriage rights, then you would know that it’s tradition for the bride to present the groom with a gift.” Coulson’s mirth quickly switched to concern, but she continued before he could react. “You said that you never really had a place where your belonged, you or Daisy. Well, you have one now, if you like. I would very much like it if you were to think of Trillieon as your home.”

For a moment Coulson didn’t speak, and Melinda could see that he was deeply moved. Finally, in a low voice, he said, “Thank you. Nothing would make me happier.”

“Goodnight, Phillip.”

“Goodnight, Melinda.”

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

 

When it came to matters of the mind, of science, astronomy, alchemy and the quadrivium, there were not many people who could best Leopold Fitz. He had a way of seeing the world in a manner few could even dream of and create such wondrous inventions as to astound even the most creative of imaginations. But for all that he was still a man of relatively unpretentious tastes who, like so many others, derived great pleasure from the simple things — a cool beer, a hot meal, and the unmeasurable joy he experienced each morning when he woke up to the soft warmth of Jemma curled up in his arms.

So when he awoke that morning in his own bed for the first time in weeks, yet without the comfort of his beautiful wife by his side, he was inclined to believe against all logical reason that this was an omen that heralded an unpleasant day.

For a few moments after waking he kept his eyes closed while a single hand searched for his wife through the warm expanse of their large bed, heavy with woollen and fur blankets set to keep out the winter’s cold. After this turned out to be fruitless he let loose a long sign and finally sat up, wiping at his eyes almost in the manner of a child. It didn’t take him long to locate Jemma. She had already flung back the curtains on the far side of their chamber to allow the cold, white light to flood in while she fussed and worried over her collection of plants that she kept in that corner, all while still in her evening robe. Fitz fell back into his pillows with his head propped up on one hand and watched her with a pleasant smile. Their chambers resembled something like a work space lived in or perhaps a home made of curiosities, as all around their practical furniture were more tables and drawers and chests against every wall, all holding his inventions of steel and stone and her experiments with plants and animals. Jemma’s mind was as sharp and inquisitive as his and while they were both inclined to study very different subjects, they perfectly complemented each other in all manner of ways. As Fitz watched how gently she cared for her flowers he felt a swell of love in his heart that was enhanced by the fact that they were finally home again. However, it was clear that this sense of peace he was feeling did not extend to her at that moment.

“Jemma, dearest,” he said lazily, his voice still rough from sleep. “Come back to bed.”

“The sun rose hours ago,” she replied without looking up. “As should you.”

“No, not at all,” he said, falling on his back into the bed with a loud, contented sigh that finally got Jemma to look at him with a gaze that was part amused, part exasperated. “The queen has given us leave for this day to recover from our journey. Our meals will be taken later than usual, and I can see that it is snowing quite heavily so there’s no real point in going outside, nay, in even leaving this chamber, so in short, my dearest, _loveliest_ Jemma, the only duties we need to perform —” And here he sat back up again and fixed her with a salacious grin, “— are for ourselves.”

Jemma stared at him with a small, disbelieving smile. “How did I ever agree to marry you?”

“Is not this stunning display of charm evidence enough?” asked Fitz with feigned confusion. But he quickly dropped this playful facade as he threw off the blankets and went to her side, twining his arms around her waist and pulling her close to plant a soft kiss on her neck as she purred in appreciation. “Come now. In all seriousness, this looks to be the first true winter’s day and by chance we have it all to ourselves to do what we will. Your plants are fine. Surely you could think of some better way we could use our time?”

Jemma covered his hands with her own as she pondered the possibilities for a moment. “I could do with a bath — a proper bath, this time, not just a wash like last night.”

He hummed happily, his lips already back at her neck.

“With your blue flames we could have the copper tub heated in a matter of minutes.”

“Sounds delightful.”

“And of course … I do have trouble reaching certain areas.” She turned in his arms and laced her hands around the back of his neck. “So I’ll be needing your assistance.”

“Which I, being the dutiful husband that I am, shall be more than willing to provide,” he grinned.

She returned the smile and she leaned closer as she lowered her voice seductively. “And then, afterwards …” Suddenly her voice became hard as she pulled away. “… that Inhuman brings the entire castle crashing down upon our bloody heads!”

Fitz threw his head back and groaned as Jemma pulled herself out of his embrace and went back to her table of plants — where a deep, long crack now ran ominously underneath it.

“Jemma! It’s been discussed! It was an accident!”

“An accident!” spluttered Jemma. “Shaking an entire castle to its foundations can hardly be called an accident!”

“She was _upset_ ,” said Fitz. “And rightfully so. Admit it. If someone had made that kind of presumption about you and — and — I don’t know, Mackenzie, you’d be livid too! ”

“But my anger doesn’t crack floors! What about the next time she becomes upset?” said Jemma. “Or agitated or stressed or, I don’t know, just simply has a bad day?”

Fitz raised a hand to press it against his eyes. “She’s not some unpredictable natural disaster just waiting to happen, Jemma.”

“Yes, she is! And she’s in our _home_!”

“She is a _part_ of our home!” Fitz raised his voice ever so slightly, but it was enough to stun Jemma into a silence that stretched on uncomfortably between them. As a couple they delighted in arguing about the finer point of the world but very rarely did they fight. Fitz pressed his hands together and, bringing them to his lips, took a steadying breath before continuing in a softer tone. “Like it or not, she is now a part of our home. So is Lord Coulson. I know how badly dismayed you were about everything but it had happened and we _can not_ continue like we did on the journey back.”

“What do you mean?” asked Jemma with a barest hint of a tremor in her voice.

“I mean that this outward hostility, this othering of them, will only breed anger and resentment that we will not be able to control, let alone atone for.”

Jemma’s mouth set into a hard line. “I can’t just accept someone like her.”

“No, that’s not true,” said Fitz, tired and saddened. “You can. You just don’t want to try. And to see that in you, Jemma, of all people …” He trailed off, unable and unwilling to finish that sentence. Her expression, however, didn’t change, and after a few more painful moments Fitz nodded to himself and disappeared into his dressing room to change.

When he came back out, Jemma had gone.

 

* * *

 

 

In times of stress, Fitz had always found comfort and relief in the castle’s grand library.

As he pressed past the impressive oak doors into the massive library he breathed a sigh of relief when at first glance it looked to be empty, and then shivered as the cold that had been sealed in that cavernous room licked around him. He wasted no time in lighting the fires in the multiple hearths that circled the room, hearths that completed a heating system of his own design. Each hearth was connected with a series of metal pipes that ran along the outside of the walls throughout the room and as the fire within them built, the hot air would rush through those pipes, sending warmth into even the furthest corner. The flames themselves burnt blue and white as they ate away at not only wood, but also a mixture of metals that produced a hotter flame that burned longer, and soon Fitz felt himself relax as heat slowly began to overpower the cold.

“That’s a pretty nifty trick.” Fitz spun around, his heart crashing against his chest, to see Daisy Johnson curled up in a window-nook in the far corner, a heavy pile of blankets wrapped around her  shoulders and a book on her knee. “I saw the hearths but just assumed that they’d never be able to heat a room this size.” She paused and shrugged slightly. “I guess that just serves to remind me never to assume.”

With his conversation with Jemma still fresh in his mind, he decided that now was as good a time as any to offer a peaceful hand to their newest citizen. “Good morning. I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there.” He walked towards her, a hand extended in greeting. “We were never personally introduced; I’m Leopold Fitz, Knight of the Queens Guard and Scientific Advisor to her Majesty.”

Daisy quirked in eyebrow, a small smile twisting her face. “That’s a personal introduction?” she said. “And by the way, we _were_ introduced, remember? You pulled your sword on me.”

“You somehow threw my wife into the air,” countered Fitz, trying to keep his voice civil.

“She insulted me,” said Daisy before she blinked in confusion. “Wait, what? Wife? I thought Fury said you were her escort?”

“I am,” said Fitz, also a little confused. “In Trillieon that’s a more formal way of saying ‘husband’.”

“Well, that’s not what it means most everywhere else.”

“What does it mean?”

“Defender.” Daisy smiled again, but this time it seemed more genuine. “Which you seem to do quite well.”

Fitz smiled a little, too. “Well, I try. Although, in regards to her behaviour towards you, I’m not sure I should be defending her. Or myself.” At this Daisy became very still, staring at Fitz in a such closed off way that he wondered if she viewed all attempts at peacemaking with such wariness. He cleared his throat and tried to continue. “I am ashamed with how I received you, and your Lord. It was a painful event for all concerned and I did nothing to ease that. In fact, I believe I made it worse by either action or inaction. I understand if your forgiveness is something you do not wish to give and please know —”

“No, no,” said Daisy abruptly. “You have it.”

That stopped Fitz short. “Pardon?”

“My forgiveness. You have it, completely. And thank you.”

“You’re … welcome …?” Fitz managed to push out, wondering how this had all suddenly become so easy.

Daisy grinned up at him impishly as she shucked off her blankets and sat up a little straighter. “I bumped into Coulson this morning and he had some very interesting thing to say about apologies and forgiveness and things of the like. I don’t know what prompted all that, but he seemed pretty keen to have me take all that to heart. Also, seeing as how I am the sort of person that rarely stands on the receiving end of an apology I’d be a fool to let one pass by so … thank you.”

Fitz could only stare down at Daisy, viewing her in a completely new light. He knew of high borns who would’ve dragged out an apology to the point of frustration yet here was a woman of no title — and Inhuman, of all things — who had accepted his offer of peace with a natural grace and charm that sometimes couldn’t be cultivated in some of the most affluent of minds. Her open and friendly manner encouraged him to edge closer.

“You’re very … wise,” he said carefully.

“I have been told so, many times,” she said lightly. “Yet, each time those saying it have always sounded surprised.”

Fitz stared at her for a long moment. “I don’t know what to say.”

Daisy squirmed out of the last of the blankets that were still wrapped around her waist as she stood up and came to Fitz’s side. “That’s fine. I know that I take a little bit of time to warm up to.” She folded her arms and turned to survey the vast walls that were stacked with volume upon volume, blowing out a soft whistle. “But this might be the place to start. Because even though I have had the privilege of studying in magnificent libraries like this before, I have discovered that each one is ordered differently and I do believe I need a guide. Oh, apologies … unless you came here to work? I don’t wish to interrupt.”

“No, no!” Fitz assured her immediately. “I came here to … well, to relax.” Memories of his fight with Jemma swum past his mind’s eye and he felt his stance slump. “My wife and I argued this morning.”

“And I take it that’s not a common occurrence?” guessed Daisy, studying him closely.

“Not at all.”

“May I ask what the argument was about?” When Fitz merely turned and looked at her she sucked in a guilty breath. “Ah. Me.”

“More so, what you did.” Fitz thought carefully about his next words as he did not want this new found comfort with Daisy to disappear, but still felt a burning curiosity. “You don’t need to answer this if you don’t want to … but your … abilities? Are they very closely tied to your emotions?”

Daisy looked surprised, then resigned. “You think every time I loose my temper, I’m going to make the castle shake.”

“No!” After her disbelieving look, he quickly added. “I don’t believe so. I don’t actually know and I …?” He trailed off, shrugging.

“When I was younger, yes, my emotions most definitely effected my powers,” said Daisy. “But that’s not the case anymore.”

Fitz frowned in thought. “So what happened yesterday …?”

“Was deliberate.” Daisy was now the one who looked contrite. “I’m sorry, but I was angry and hurt and … honestly? Not used to being ignored.” An unexpected smile popped onto Fitz’s face at her blunt honesty and she returned it.

“Well, you most certainly got everyone’s attention,” said Fitz. “I’m sorry we pushed you to the point where you felt the need to act out like that.” They shared another smile and Fitz once again marvelled at how quickly a rapport had developed between them. He then clapped his hands together and cleared his throat in a very business-like manner. “Now! A tour was requested and it just so happens that I know the person who has the most intimate knowledge of almost every article in this room. Even reorganised it to a higher standard a few years back.”

Daisy grinned indulgently. “And let me guess, that person is you?”

“No, my wife. But I come in at a close second.”

Daisy gave a little laugh as she accepted his offered arm and the two of them began their inspection.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

 

While Jemma’s feet were freezing the rest of her was almost uncomfortably hot, and she was now near panting from exertion. She had just spent the better part of an hour walking hard and fast away from the castle and was now deep into the bare orchards that covered a steep downhill slope on the northern side. After her … _disagreement_ with Fitz, Jemma had quickly dressed and left their chambers to both avoid another confrontation and to somehow find a way to expel the nervous tension that seemed to wrap itself around her like a weed. After half an hour of unsuccessfully trying to wear herself out indoors and glowering at everyone who passed her by, she had finally decided that the snow wasn’t falling all that heavily anymore and had left from some fresh air and maybe, hopefully, a reprieve from what she was feeling. 

Jemma was beginning to forget how she had felt before this seething, constant tension had taken root in the base of her stomach and in all honesty, it was exhausting her. She had felt the tendrils of anxiety thread their way through her from the moment Queen May had announced her intention to seek foreign assistance and allegiances when it had finally been confirmed that the legends of the Armies of Hydra were no longer that. The fact that King Fury had them meet at an encampment and not a proper establishment had further worried and concerned her and when he had presented a treaty in the form of a sham marriage to a low born, she felt a rage build within her that was unlike anything she’d previously experienced. And now there was an unstable Inhuman who would quite literally tear their home down from the inside out living along side them as if equals! She no longer knew if she was angry or fearful or despondent, all she knew as that her heart and her mind couldn’t take much more.

And Fitz! Jemma let loose a tiny growl of anger from behind clenched teeth and kicked aimlessly at the snow as she walked. He was her _husband_ , he was supposed to be on her side, to understand her, not to … to …

She stopped walking, entire body tense yet through all that more quiet thoughts started to enter her mind. _Fitz was merely trying to get me to see things from someone else’s perspective,_ she thought miserably. _How like him to want to see the good in someone._

And he was right about her. Now that her body was beginning to really strain, her hands and face hot, her nose running and her lungs cold, her mind started to work at a slower pace instead of its  usual mad cycle. He did understand her, he did know how hard this was for her. And yet he wanted her to push beyond her limitations and not only accept this ridiculous situation. No, not just that. He wanted her to actively embrace it. And she couldn’t, she just couldn’t!

_“No, that’s not true. You can. You just don’t want to try.”_

Jemma turned to lean against a nearby tree, tilting her head back so she could look up into the bare branches that stretched out against the grey sky like the skeletal fingers of some strange, dormant creature. She could still so clearly hear Fitz’s voice in her head, see the look of disappointment on his face. And that made her sad. No, angry. No … sad.

Now that she had accomplished her goal to somehow burn away the physical tension in her body she was left cold and introspective. She turned her mind to the two newcomers and tried to see things from their position, but immediately felt the same wave of disregard. Lord Coulson had just elevated himself from a poor swordsman to the consort of her Queen. He now had money, status, power and a permanent residence, something which she understood had so far eluded him and she could not feel any sympathy for him, for she did not see that he had lost anything in this exchange. But her Queen … Jemma knew that she had sworn against any marriage after the death of the Prince and also knew that even the ceremony had caused May a great deal of pain. Jemma simply could not bring herself to welcome someone who was the source of her Queen’s suffering.

But the Inhuman … Daisy. Jemma felt her knees tremble slightly as she recalled how the witch had thrown her into the air on a whim, breaking apart the very ground at her feet with merely a thought. There was power in that small woman, power that Jemma could now finally admit that she feared. When Inhumans had first started appearing across all the lands but theirs people had first confused them with the demons that had long ago plagued them, and rightly so. Jemma knew very well the stories that were told of the monsters beyond their boarders, of the horrific acts they committed. In the early days, every time a new bard had entered Moruya Jemma had been first in line to hear of how the Inhuman sickness was spreading and how she might assist in its eradication.

But now, attitudes had changed. The fear was still very much there, but now it was tempered with curiosity, respect and even reverence in some places. King Fury was famous for incorporating Inhumans into his forces and even Talbot, whose stubbornness was legendary, had been known to openly welcome Inhumans into his own domain. Perhaps, on this subject, her own attitude was now becoming a little dated.

Jemma looked back up where she had come from, the castle now lost in a sea of trees and fog, and sighed. Fitz was right. She wasn’t willing to try and give either of the newcomers a chance but while she felt justified with Coulson, upon examining her own feelings she was distressed to see that her behaviour towards Daisy was very much motivated by prejudice, pure and simple. Jemma had antagonised her, derided her and then ignored her, all because she was an Inhuman who was connected with the low born her Queen had to marry. And she had also made some assumptions about their relationship which were frankly embarrassing. And very unlike her. She worried at her lower lip as she thought. No wonder Fitz had acted as he did that morning. He knew her better than anyone else in this world and he could see that the stress and uncertainty had led her to behave in ways that were not herself.

There was a deep and peaceful quiet as the snow continued to fall in lazy little flakes. Jemma pushed herself off her tree and walked a few paces even further downhill, already feeling the chill from standing still too long. “Oh, bother,” she breathed as only a few yards down she stopped again, finally realising that in her anger and haste that she had unknowingly walked to the very boundaries of the castles ground. A thick and sturdy stone wall, just a little over waist high, was the boundary line between the neat and ordered orchards and the wilds of the mountains and while Jemma knew very well what the view usually looked like, today it was hidden in a shroud of mist and fog, with only the tall foreboding evergreens and the tangle of undergrowth barely visible from the wall. She completed her walk in a few more steps and placed her hands on the stone, looking out with resignation. There were two ways home from here; back the way she came or a slightly easier, much, _much_ longer walk around the edge of the estate until she reached home. She sighed again. The longer walk was less trouble, but it would be well into night by the time she arrived home and she did not wish to be caught out in this weather. She now knew what her anger had gotten her. A very long, very hard walk uphill.

For a while she stood looking out into the veiled forest, enjoying the quiet, dreading the walk back, when a new noise slowly began to make itself known. Jemma moved away from the wall and peered into the white that surrounded her as the faint sounds of horses and the quiet snatches of conversation came closer. Soon indistinct shapes began to emerge, the voices became clearer and Jemma suddenly felt as if Daisy Johnson had thrown her into the air again. Because riding towards her was Lord Coulson in the company of her Queen. And they were unescorted.

“… truly, one of the most incredible things I’ve ever seen in my life!” Lord Coulson was talking in an energetic manner, one hand holding the reins while the other gesticulated wildly. “The Flame Trees somehow pull the fire within themselves and then seem to glow while their leaves go from green to red to gold, before finally falling off … it’s just so … indescribable! The trunks continue to burn for days afterwards, turning the leaves into ash upon the ground while only the faintest smoke drifts away. And yet, two months later when I returned, it was as if none of that had ever occurred. Everything was green and lush! It had grown back at an astonishing rate!”

“And a ride though a winter’s orchard reminded you of this hot and fiery place?” asked the Queen. Jemma was stunned to see a small, interested smile on her lady’s face.

Coulson looked around and shrugged. “Yes, in a way. The bare trees waiting to be reborn, the quiet that comes from the migration of wildlife. It’s really very — oh.” He stopped short, pulling his horse to a halt as they finally noticed Jemma. “Lady Simmons?”

“Jemma!” burst out the Queen, concerned. “What are you doing so far out on a day like today?”

“I … I …” Jemma stuttered, still trying to process the hallucination of her Queen smiling in the company of Coulson. “I was in the need of some fresh air and exercise, ma’am.”

May frowned. “Did you consult with anyone? Tell them that you were venturing out this far?”

“I was not aware that I had to …?” Jemma trailed off uncertainly, wondering at the worry in May’s face.

“My lady,” said Coulson. “I believe you may be unaware of a terrible storm that is set to bare down upon us this early evening.”

Despite everything she still felt her hackles rise when address by this man. “Is that so? Then pray tell, why you would take the Queen out alone if such weather is soon to be here?”

“It was at _my_ insistence,” said May, her words innocent, her face hard. Jemma instantly felt cowed and still more bewildered that her Queen would so quickly defend this man. Did she not hate him? “Earlier this morning, as we were examine the maps of the domain, we were informed that sever storms look to keep us battered down for the better part of the fortnight. I had wished for Phillip to know my boundaries as well as I did and, really, there’s only so much one can learn from paper. Perhaps it was mildly reckless on my behalf,” she said, looking introspective for a moment. “But if we must be confined to quarters for the next series of days, particularly after only have just returned, I wanted at least one quick inspection of my estate before that.”

Jemma felt her jaw hanging open and could only say one thing. “ _Phillip_?”

“Yes,” said the man, and Jemma could swear that his eyes were laughing at her. “That is my name. And you may refer to me as such, if it pleases you.”

“I …” _bloody well will not_ , she thought hotly and though she said nothing her emotions were clear to all. _How did this happen?_ she wanted to shout. _How have things so radically changed between you over the course of a night?_ Once again, though she said nothing, Coulson’s expression made it clear that he knew her thoughts and he was _smiling_. However, what made it even more aggravating was the fact that _so was May_. Both smiling at each other as if sharing some private joke! What had _happened_?

May turned her small smile towards her and asked, “Did you intend to walk to the boundary today?”

“No. I … lost track of time, and must’ve been walking faster than I thought.”

“And by what route do you plan to return to the castle?”

Jemma nodded back towards the steep hill with a small twist to her lips that indicated her reluctance to retrace her steps.

“Well, we can’t have that,” said Coulson in an almost paternal manner, and before either woman could react he had swiftly dismounted his horse and offered a helping hand to Jemma. “My lady?”

Jemma felt a rush of different thoughts assault her at the same moment. The consort offering his horse to a lady is definitely against court protocol … but then again, he is a low born and she a  natural lady so there wouldn’t be too much shame to accept it … but to do so in front of her queen! What game is this man playing? What purpose was there to this strategic act of kindness? Or was it perhaps an act without an agenda, an honest deed? He was, after all, still at heart a simple soldier unused to the intricacies of court relationships … and after that frozen moment of mental panic she managed to stutter out a quick, “Oh no, I couldn’t!”

Coulson glanced down at her attire. “Your dress and cloak are soaked through well past the hem, and I’ll warrant that your shoes are in a similar state. And forgive me, but I do not believe that you have any genuine wish to spend your afternoon walking back up the side of a mountain if a more pleasant option is available to you. I, however, have no qualms on this matter and in all honesty I would hate to leave you here in this state. That is,” he said as if the thought just occurred to him, “If her Majesty has no objections?”

“None at all,” said May, a new and fresh emotion shining in her eyes as she looked down at the two of them, something Jemma did not think she had seen in her queen for a long time. “In fact, Jemma, considering you do look a little worn I _insist_ you accompany me back, although I am loath to leave Phillip to such a hard walk. Perhaps once we return I should send someone to fetch you?”

Coulson grinned. “That’s not needed at all. I’m certain I can handle this, as from what I remember from your maps it’s just going to be a matter of walking straight along the line of trees. I can’t get lost.” Once again he turned to Jemma and offered his hand. “Please?”

Her hesitation lasted only a moment longer before she accepted his hand with the lightest of touches and allowed him to help her up onto the horse. Because regardless of what she felt about him, he was right. Her feet ached and everything below her knees was soaked and freezing. A return on horseback was infinitely more preferable than that long hike and now that her queen had given her approval Jemma couldn’t really find anymore objections to voice. Once she was seated as comfortably as she could be — her dress was not made for riding and now hiked up around her knees — she turned to Coulson and, as her eyes looked somewhere just to the side of him, uttered a brisk, “Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome,” he replied pleasantly, not in the least affected by her manner. He then turned to May. “I guess this is where I take my leave of you, your Majesty.”

“Until tomorrow, unless the Gods deem it otherwise,” said May. “And please. Like I said before, for you it’s ‘Melinda’.”

Jemma nearly fell of her horse.

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

 

For the first half of the ride back Jemma and May sat in familiar if not entirely comfortable silence. Jemma felt a myriad of questions spinning around her mind but couldn’t yet bring herself to voice any of them, partly feeling as though it were not her place to do so and partly because she was just plain at a loss at where to start. For her part, May assumed her habitual silence that seemed just a touch more contemplative than usual. The deep, peaceful quiet from earlier was now being punctuated more and more frequently by long, worrying howls of wind and the bare branches above them rattled and shook with each renewed gust. Jemma kept shooting side long looks towards May, trying to read her famously unreadable face, finding that even her intimate knowledge of May wasn’t helping her to guess what her queen was thinking. Eventually Jemma, no longer able to bare the unnatural silence between herself and her queen, spoke.

“I’m sure he’ll make his way back just fine.”

May blinked and turned to Jemma, startled out of whatever musings she’d been nurturing. “Yes,” she said, after a moment. “Yes, I’m sure you’re right about that.” There was yet another small pause before she continued. “Did you think I was worried for him?”

“In all honesty, I don’t know what _you’re_ thinking right now, ma’am,” said Jemma. “And … I don’t know what _I’m_ thinking.”

May smiled ever so slightly. “I imagine we gave you quite a shock, appearing like that.”

Jemma held her jaw tight against her response for just a moment before it burst out. “More than a shock! I was … _he_ was … you know, I had initially planned to spend all of today studying our laws and the laws that are set between domains, hoping to find something that could invalidate your marriage. I have had to watch you suffer because of this for the past few weeks and it made me so … so _angry_. But then … oh, Fitz and I argued this morning and I _know_ he goes to the library to calm down so I couldn’t go there to find the texts that I needed, not really, and I couldn’t stay in our chambers or indoors, so that’s why I walked so damn far without realising and … and _then_! And then I find you, out here, unescorted with _him_! You went from outwardly despising him to - to - to _laughing_ with him and I _don’t understand it_.” She stopped with a click of her teeth, realising that she might’ve said too much, and added a lame, “Ma’am,” in the hopes of softening the tirade.

There was another long moment that stretched out between them, but as Jemma nervously played with the reins she was somewhat comforted by the calm look on May’s face. Whatever she was feeling, she wasn’t angry at Jemma for her little speech. May drew in a small breath and began.

“Jemma. You have been a part of my House since you were a little girl, a member of my Court since your turning out, and my trusted council for years now. I am grateful beyond measure for your loyalty and humbled by your love.” She paused and Jemma felt an unpleasant swooping in her stomach, as if she were a child about to be told off. “That love, however, can blind you. In truth, it can blind the best of us. I believe that is why there are so many stories and ballads written to the subject.” She smiled slightly before it faded away. “I’m not assigning any blame to you, not at all. That would be beyond hypocritical of me to do so. Nor will I be instructing you to befriend Phillip or even like him, if you’re not inclined to. But from now any interactions, thoughts and opinions about him must be your own, and not just a symbol of your loyalty — which, my dear, has never been in question. But that loyalty has restricted you, I think, and I am truly sorry to have inadvertently caused that.”

Jemma stared, emotions and thoughts swirling around her head just like before, but somehow more gentle this time, more illuminating. In all honesty, May was simply bringing a voice to the same concerns she believed Fitz had about her and even touched on some thoughts she’d had about herself. But with May saying it, it all seemed so clear.

“I believe I understand, ma’am,” she said slowly, softly. “But if I may ask — and please do not think that I am seeking to transplant a new notion into my mind — but … what changed _your_ mind about him?”

“The same things that I believe are effecting you right now.” She gave her a long look. “Counselling and contemplation.”

“And what do you think of him now?”

“Are you asking if I like him?” Jemma shrugged and May pressed her lips together. “That I can not answer, not yet. It’s too soon. But it’s hardly as though I’ve married an ogre. He has a pleasant way of speaking, a practical mind, and his manners, though unrefined, are neat and sincere. I believe that if I had been given more time, if Phillip and I had met at least more than _once_ before our marriage and had been better acquainted, then I would’ve warmed to him sooner. Aside from the conditions of the marriage and his low birth, none of which he can help, there really isn’t too much to object to in the man himself.” Her eyes narrowed. “That has been revealed so far.”

Jemma huffed at the mention of Coulson’s low birth, reminded once again of her initial prejudice. “I still say that his rank is an insult to you, and our domain. Couldn’t they at least have found someone of the blood?”

“I do believe that everyone was in a bit of a rush,” said May, smiling through her mild sarcasm. “And I think we both know that being of the blood doesn’t guarantee someone who is truly nobel. Look at Fitz.”

“Fitz isn’t low born!” objected Jemma instantly, ready to defend her husband’s name. “Nor is he an insult to the blood! He is the kindest, most intelligent man walking this domain _and_ he has a lineage that spans generations untold that commends the upmost respect.”

“You are thinking of his mother’s side,” said May quietly. “I was referring to his father.” That pulled Jemma up short, the awfully familiar tenseness once again running down her shoulders and spine. “Alistair Fitz is of the blood, and one of the few people I wouldn’t give shelter to in a white out. We are so ready to give concessions to those of high birth and we will dismiss those of low birth just as quickly. There is something truly wrong with that. And … I was wrong for indulging in such thoughts in the first place.”

“Life is all about learning,” said Jemma eventually. She could already feel as though this conversation would stick with her for a long time.

“It is indeed,” said May. She abruptly coughed and sat up straighter in her saddle, signalling an end of this particular discussion. “The road here seems clearer and wider than before, and I don’t like how that wind has been picking up this past half hour. I think it’s time we put these horses through their paces. The Gods only know when they’ll get another chance to do that, if this coming storm is as fierce as they predict.” Her eyes darted down to Jemma’s exposed knees, which were now blue. “And I think your husband would appreciate it if his wife was returned to him without any added frostbite.”

“He and I both,” smiled Jemma.

The two woman brought their horses up to a quick canter and headed homewards.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jemma and May parted ways at the stables where Mackenzie and the Lady Rodriguez were already there to greet them, although Jemma had a sneaking suspicion that the Head of House and the stewardess had hardly gone out to the stables just to greet their queen when she returned. They would’ve had no way of telling when exactly she and Lord Coulson would be back, so waiting for them would’ve been very boring … unless they particularly enjoyed the company they kept while doing the waiting. _None of my business_ , thought Jemma firmly as she asked the somewhat flustered Mackenzie where she might find Fitz. She wasn’t in the least surprised to hear that he was still in the library, although that did give her pause. Either he had found something wonderfully distracting to occupy his time or … or he was still angry from their fight.

Jemma’s anger had long since dissipated and all she wanted to do was to make things right with Fitz, get warm and have a gloriously large meal, but if Fitz was still mad then her evening trying to make things right might take up all the energy she had left. In a way she felt like she might have to make that steep, uphill journey regardless and she’d rather do it sooner than later. So without changing her outfit, she set of for the library.

When she entered she breathed a sigh of relief at the wave of abnormally hot air that washed over and around her, making her numb hands tingle in warning. She then frowned. It shouldn’t be _this_ hot unless someone wanted it that way and who in Moruya, a city famed for its icy clime, would prefer the heat?

The answer to her question was sitting at one of the large oak tables at the far end of the room, close enough to the wide windows that gave a glorious view of the Moruyian countryside where the afternoon sun was now hidden behind deeply green and black clouds that were fast encroaching on the castle. Daisy Johnson sat with her chin propped up on one hand, gazing absentmindedly out the window as her other hand delicately held a page up in a half-forgotten book that rested on the table. As Jemma closed the door behind her Daisy looked up and around, spotting Jemma in an instant. For a moment the two woman froze on opposite sides of the library, staring at each other, each of them unsure of the other’s motives. However, before either of them could react another voice echoed past them.

“Well, I found _A History of Sites Unknown_ , but this appears to be a later edition.” Fitz came into view, walking between the two women without even noticing what was happening, frowning down at the cover of the heavy, leather bound book he was carrying. “I was sure we had an earlier one, one that definitely covered the legends of Providence, but right now this is the best we’ve got. I think — oh.” He finally looked up. “Jemma!” He took in her windswept hair, her cheeks and nose still red from the cold and her filthy attire before asking carefully: “Where have you been?”

“Oh, I just walked to the boundary,” she said with an air that implied that she did that sort of thing every day. Daisy, glancing at Fitz’s starkly confused face, could probably detect the deception. Jemma swallowed nervously before barreling on. “ _A History of Sites Unknown_ is considered to be pure mythology, although if you’re talking of Providence, then I suppose that’s what you’re studying right now. That’s the legendary temple even further south of Trillieon, isn’t it? The one full of treasure and marvels, that is guarded by one who speaks in riddles and only admits the true of heart and mind? Wonderful little stories, I grew up with them, they fascinated me as a child.”

“Well,” said Daisy slowly, eyes wide as she watched Jemma ramble. “I have also heard such stories and thought that now I’m living so close —”

“That you might have a go at treasure hunting!” interrupted Jemma, a touch more enthusiastically than necessary. “Yes, well, you wouldn’t be the first. There’s actually a whole society here that is dedicated to the legend of Providence and even goes on expeditions to find it every now and then. Piper is a member. It’s all in good fun, I hear, just a bit of entertainment to get you out and about.” She walked briskly up to Fitz and plucked the _A History of Sites Unknown_ out of his hand, tsking over it in disapproval. “Fitz, this is practically a children’s book. If D-daisy is looking for information on Providence, you really should’ve have gone for _Those Who Search For Providence_.”

“I … didn’t think about that,” said Fitz, obviously concerned about both Jemma’s wild appearance and over-the-top behaviour.

“And I’ve never heard of _Those Who Search For Providence,_ ” said Daisy with a look of interest.

“Because there’s only one copy,” said Jemma, already walking over to Daisy’s table and handing her _A History of Sites Unknown_ before darting off into the depths of the shelves. “Written by a Trillieon explorer, Victoria Hand, many, _many_ years ago. It’s considered to be the primary source of any _factual_ information about Providence.” For a few minutes Jemma became lost the the rows of books while Daisy and Fitz exchanged silent looks of shared bewilderment. When she finally emerged she was carrying a large volume that was wrapped in protective cloth.

“You need to wear gloves,” explained Jemma as the lay the book in front of Daisy. She then realised that her words could be misinterpreted and quickly stammered out, “I mean, everyone would have to wear the gloves not just an In— not just someone like — it’s just, it’s an only copy, and it’s old, and it’s delicate and —”

“It’s fine,” smiled Daisy, the first genuine smile she’d given Jemma. This stopped Jemma in her tracks and she found herself tentatively smiling back, thinking that Daisy did have a beautiful smile. “I have actually handled things like this before.”

“Daisy studied at the Stark Library,” said Fitz pointedly, also smiling.

“What? Goodness!” Jemma gaped and while Daisy shrugged nonchalantly, but she could see her pride shining through. “What was that like?”

“Incredible!” beamed Daisy. “There are no windows, but all the walls are made of the thinest and finest marble, so only the softest light gets in. The whole place is like working within a dream.”

“Well,” said Jemma. “Our little collection must seem rather paltry compared to something like that,  but I hope — I _do_ hope, that you’ll be able to find everything you need.”

Daisy nodded, looking up at Jemma with something contemplative shinning in her eyes. A small stretch of somewhat awkward silence stood between the three of them for a moment before Daisy finally asked something completely unexpectedly: “Do I make you nervous?”

Jemma’s eyebrows shot up and Fitz’s eyes darted worryingly between the two ladies. “I … yes.” Daisy looked shocked that Jemma actually admitted it. “I’m sorry, but yes. I’m not — I don’t —” She closed her eyes and tried to collect herself before continuing at a calmer pace. “I’ve never met and Inhuman before, and every story I’d ever been told about your kind was … was not … they weren’t good stories. And my attitudes have been shaped solely on that, which is not an excuse, I know, but simply what happened. And in the last year, with all those skirmishes on our southern boarders, all those unexplainable deaths … I was very much amongst the crowd that blamed Inhumans for those horrific acts.”

Daisy’s face was hard. “You do realise now that that was the Armies of Hydra who conducted those raids.”

“I do,” said Jemma, guilt etched across her face. “But at the time …” She shrugged helplessly, her hands twining together in a nervous knot. “I am sorry. I’m so my prejudice blinded me, I’m sorry for my behaviour, and I’m sorry I wasn’t welcoming of you, or Lord Coulson.”

“Thank you,” said Daisy carefully, sincerely. She stood so she could face Jemma more directly. “Many people, right or wrong, treat Inhumans the way you do. But precious few actually apologise for it. So thank you.” Daisy reached out and placed a single hand over Jemma’s clasped one, and she found that touch to be instantly soothing. “And as for your behaviour towards Coulson … well, I understand that.”

“You do?” asked Jemma, dumbfounded.

Daisy nodded towards Fitz. “We’ve been talking all morning, and Fitz informed me that you’ve known the queen since you were a child. That’s much longer than I’ve been with Coulson. I understand the kind of bond that can develop in that situation and if you felt even half the anger at that whole marriage treaty that I did, well …” She shrugged. “I understand. I really do. But we’re here now, and we must make amends.”

Jemma loosened her fingers so she could gently twine them with Daisy’s, and smiled. “I truly hope we can.”

Daisy’s grin widened into something quite lovely before she exclaimed, “But right now, we need to do something about how cold your hands are!”

“Oh! Are they?” said Jemma, letting go of Daisy’s hand and bringing her own to her face. “Oh yes, they’re like little buckets of ice, aren’t they?”

“Well, we can’t have that,” said Fitz, taking her hands and chaffing them softly to warm them. “Daisy, I hope you won’t be too bothered if we take our leave of you? My wife needs someone to warm her up.”

“Fitz!” exclaimed Jemma, a blush rushing to colour her features. Daisy just laughed.

“By all means,” she said, dismissing them with a wave. “After all, I do have some reading to attend to.”

“I hope we can meet again, soon,” said Jemma. “Perhaps to discuss Providence some more?”

“I believe I should enjoy that very much,” said Daisy happily.

 

* * *

 

 

Fitz and Jemma were nearly back at their chambers when Fitz murmured, “I’m very proud of you, dearest.”

“I’m sorry for this morning,” said Jemma, turning to face him and grasping at both his hands. “You were only trying to get me to see the good in people and I was —”

“You were my beautiful wife,” said Fitz, bringing her hands to his lips and kissing them. “Good or bad, nothing will change that.”

“Well,” Jemma drew out the word slowly. “Seeing as how you are my dutiful husband —”

“Absolutely.”

“— and I am terrible cold and unkempt right now —”

“You look lovely anyway.”

“— and we seem to be closer to the bathing chambers than our quarters —”

“I hardly noticed.”

Jemma stopped and grinned. “I believe I teased you with the idea of a warm bath this morning. I’m now ready to make good on that offer.”

Fitz pulled away in mock thought. “Ah, well, I’ll have to see how my schedule is looking … busy day … might be a bit hard to find the time to work something like that in …”

Jemma laughed and swatted him against the chest as the two of them quickly ducked into the nearby chamber.

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Regardless of how the wind whistled at a dangerous pitch overhead or how the snow had begun to fall in earnest reducing visibility to a limited range, Coulson was rather enjoying himself as he walked briskly back towards the castle. The path was steep but clear and well maintained, and didn’t seem to have any strange turns or twists that could disorientate a new arrival. After so many weeks encamped with the rest of Fury’s forces and with no opportunity for exercise between his marriage and now, it was such a relief to feel his muscles stretching and working after such disuse that he didn’t even mind the unpleasant weather.

And now he was by himself, he had time to think over the events of the last day and night. When the Queen — _Melinda_ — had caught him out the front of her chambers in the middle of the night wearing nothing but than his nightclothes, he’d felt rather exposed in more ways than one. Panicked thoughts about how he was presenting as every part the low born she was seemed to be so repulsed by flew through his mind as she stood before him wrapped up in a fine, heavy cloak that was probably worth more than his entire wardrobe put together, and with the differences between them more pitifully apparent than ever he’d fully expected her to turn away with the same haughty dismissal he’d become accustomed to. What he had not expected, was an apology.

The whole event had an unreality to it, a strange midnight meeting all wrapped up in shadows and icy moonlight that had left him feeling an unsettled kind of peace, a peace that was still tempered with confusion. After they had parted ways that night and he’d returned to his chamber, he had hoped that with the weight of their disagreement now lifted from his shoulders he would somehow managed to find a good nights sleep. Unfortunately, the opposite seemed to be true as he had tossed and turned on a pristine mattress that was far too soft, the bedding too thick and suffocating for someone who’d lived rough most of his life. Once again, he’d given up and threw off the covers to pace the room for a few minutes, before finally pealing the top layer of bedding off and laying down on the floor with it, wrapped up as he’d always been in a solider’s style. As he lay on the hard stone floor that was barely covered with a layer of fur and his own blanket, he began to relax. It may seem strange to an outsider or to one who had never been deprived of their own room or bedding, but that was all that Coulson knew.

It was in that moment that he’d finally accepted that this sheltered palace life might take him a bit longer to acclimatise to than he had initially thought. Daisy was right. He’d been so wrapped up in how Melinda was dealing with this that he’d completely ignored his own health but there in the dark he had to confront it.

While he was now comfortable, Coulson still felt a small sense of unease that simply came from a changed circumstance. His own life, a life he’d built from the ground up, a life he was proud of and enjoyed, was now ripped away and replaced with a strange new figure that he didn’t yet recognise. He’d become accustomed to a solider’s life on the ground and on the move that no addition of a title could yet carve that out of him. To change so swiftly from a life of bustle and action, where his walls were made of canvas that allowed all the noises of the camp to rush through, where his meals where of his own making and shared with equally rough soldiers, where he knew almost every face and name he passed, to this peaceful, secluded, isolated existence was a greater shock to they system than he’d expected. All the hard work he’d done to claw his way to his place in the world was now considered null and void, and while many thought him to be elevated way above his station he could not see it in the same way. He was not a noble, nor could he pretend to be. He had never cared to learn the ways of the Court beyond the basics and had no social aspirations at all, yet now he would be called upon to act part of a consort. He was horribly afraid that he would be found to be lacking.

As he lay there, his hearts hammering as these worrisome thoughts clung to his mind, the gentle memory of the last thing Melinda had said to him floated past. _Home_. She’d wanted him to think of this place as his home. He’d had only one home before, so long ago that it didn’t seemed relevant to bring it up; not even Daisy knew. This new place was nothing like that. His chambers were far larger than he really needed and eerily quiet of a nighttime, the bed like a pit to suck him downward but still, it was all his. And she had wanted him to be welcome here, she had made an effort, extended and friendly hand, offered him something no-one ever had — permanent sanctuary. That gave him more hope in a few soft sentences than he’d had during the entire ordeal.

Thoughts flickered towards Daisy, wondering how her first night was. She had taken to her own chambers with a strained reluctance, her obvious desire for such things at odds with her rejection of who was providing them, and even though she said nothing Coulson could still see just how much even the appearance of a home had tempted her. Knowing that Melinda now openly welcomed them both into her house was a great comfort to him, and the very first thing he’d done that morning was to find Daisy and relate this to her. She’d been surprised, understandably, but as  they’d discussed the finer points of the arrangement over a breakfast that was brought to them, she had slowly begun to warm to the idea that a life here in Trillieon wouldn’t be quite the ordeal she’d been expecting. Coulson was glad for her. He’d always hoped she’d find somewhere to belong and surprisingly enough, this looked like it might actually be the place.

He paused in his walk, breathing hard and clenching his fists against the cold that could now no longer be ignored. Coulson knew that the very edges of the most dangerous part of the storm were now brushing ever so lightly against the township of Moruya but with visibility so bad he couldn’t tell whether he was close to the castle or not. He could still make out the rows of trees on either side of him but that was all, and after a moment to catch his breath and assess the situation he simply shrugged and continued. He must be close to the castle by now, surely. Either way, he couldn’t stop now. That was no longer and option. As the wind drove flecks of snow into the skin on his face like little daggers all he could feel was an immense relief that the Lady Simmons had taken his horse back.

Suddenly he stopped again. A more unnatural pause this time, back stiff as he looked about him, straining to see through the darkening white. He wasn’t sure, but for a moment he thought that there had been another sound, something else just beneath the howling wind that made the bare tree branches rattle and crack. The idea of a sound, a second of noise that didn’t fit in with the rest of the environment. Coulson hadn’t gotten so far in life by ignoring his instincts and he immediately relaxed his stance, wishing he’d brought his longsword, calculating how quickly he could reach the small dagger he kept in his right boot at all times. There it was. Again. Coming from a different location this time. Whatever it was, it had moved.

He was being watched. He knew this feeling, like an oil slick on his skin. Whether this were the eyes of a friend or foe, he couldn’t tell, but considering the weather and the fact that he was all alone in an unfamiliar environment had his battle instincts screaming at him to be prepared.

Another scratching movement, just behind him on the lower part of the hill. This time the noise was more deliberate, a statement not an accident. Precise footfalls crunching down upon the freshly fallen snow as someone walked just out of his sight, hidden by a white wall, crossing over the path and disappearing somewhere in the line of trees. A message. _I can see you. You can’t see me._

In one swift movement Coulson had his dagger in his hand, pointing it towards the last place he heard the footsteps, knowing that he was working at a severe disadvantage. Whoever was out there didn’t seem to be affected by the storm in the same way as him, or had a much better knowledge of the orchards layout and could use this to their advantage. Never one to draw out the inevitable, Coulson issued a swift challenge.

“You have my attention. What do you want?”

There was a long, unsettling silence. Then, a hurried rush, almost the sound of someone running.

“Show yourself!”

“Hey, hey!”

Coulson spun around, dagger already flipped and being held by its blade, ready to throw, where he was confronted by a tall, beautiful, blonde woman, clearly marked in the livery of the Queens Guard. The woman froze in her tracks, flinging up her hands in a non-threatening gesture and Coulson in turn relaxed slightly, but still kept the dagger up.

“Do you hear it too?” he asked.

The woman looked dumbfounded. “Hear what?”

“Either you Trillieons really enjoying storm-walking or someone had breached the boundaries,” he said, looking about him once more. “There was someone following me.”

It was then the woman did one of the most remarkable things Coulson had ever seen. She laughed.

“No, you’re mistaken,” she said, smiling and shaking her head at him as though he were a child. “The boundaries of Moruya haven’t been breached in over a hundred years. You heard wrong.”

Coulson froze, dumbfounded. He was known for his tactical genius, had entire armies follow his every lead and order with total confidence no matter how strange those orders might appear at first because they all knew that Coulson played a long game and very rarely lost. The entire time Coulson had been a general, then a lord, he had never been questioned. Now, he was being laughed at.

“There was someone here,” he said slowly, staring at this woman as if he’d never seen one before. “Someone was following me.”

“That can’t be right,” said the woman with simple disbelief. “But don’t worry. I hear that you come from up north where it hardly ever snows, and this type of storm is known for playing tricks on those who don’t understand her fury.”

Indignation slowly started to fester at the base of his stomach. “What’s your name?”

Something in the tone of his voice must have warned her because her smile fell off her face as she straightened to attention. “Morse, sir. Of the Queens Guard.”

“Well, Morse, I am Lord —” He froze, again. His title had changed. “I am the Consort of the Queen, and I guarantee you that my hearing and my mind’s faculties are as sound as ever. Do you think me so weak minded as to confuse the sound of the wind in the sky with that of someone walking on the ground?”

Morse looked trapped. “No, sir.”

“Mark my words, there is someone here that shouldn’t be.” Coulson turned again to peer into the white. “We’re going to need to start a sweep of the area.”

“No, we can’t,” said Morse quickly, adding a belated, “Sir.”

“Why not?” he challenged.

“Because the castle is on lockdown, sir, during the white-out. We need to make sure everyone is accounted for, so no-one leaves, not even to wander the grounds.” She paused in thought. “No-one would _want_ to wander the grounds, not in this weather.”

“Then what are you doing out here?” he asked.

“Looking for you.” At his stunned look she quickly continued. “When the Lady Rodriguez noted you absence from the roll call that we take before the lockdown, she sent a few of the Queens Guards to collect you, if something went wrong.”

A drop of humiliation was now added to his indignation. “I have served in much more dangerous climes than this one. Did no-one believe I would be able to find my way back?”

For a second Morse looked flustered before she said, “Sir, you do not know the clime of Moruya and —”

“How close are we to the castle?”

Beat.

“No more than ten yards.”

“Well, then.” Coulson forced himself not to become too petty. “Shall we?”

He extended his hand and when it became clear that some unknown protocol prevented Morse from taking the lead he’d merely sighed, shook his head and stomped on, his previous good mood ruined. What kind of rumours were being spread about him through Moruya right now? Did they all think him to be some soft little lord who’d earned his title through diligent bookkeeping or a bountiful farm? Were his orders now always to be met with gently mockery and sad whispers of how he didn’t truly understand this domain.

And more seriously, if there were a breach of the boundaries, were these people even prepared to defend themselves? Morse didn’t even entertain the possibility, dismissed it as an overactive imagination. They seemed to think their domain to be impenetrable, a notion that had naturally lead to closed minds and unready hands. As a solider, Coulson could see a danger here that no-one else seemed willing to accept.

He still felt that slick on his skin, though he knew that whoever had been out there was now long gone. Yet he could not shake this awful feeling that this would not be an isolated incident.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I didn't really have a set idea of what to write beyond the oneshots, and have been sort of lost for a while. But now I have a real idea of what's going on, so expect more regular updates!
> 
> Love you all so much!!!


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

 

It had been a few hours since Daisy had retired from the library. An advanced darkness, fed by the storm that raged outside was now steadily creeping into her chambers, where she sat cross-legged on a thick fur rug by the stone fireplace, a book open on her lap. She had returned to the chambers with a small collection of books that had caught her attention shortly after Jemma and Fitz had themselves departed. Theirs had been such pleasant company that for a while at least Daisy had been able to forget that here in the domain of Trillieon she was at best an oddity and at worst, a danger. But not even the illusion of acceptance could last long as some newcomers that came to the library were so obviously nervous and fearful of her mere presence that soon the atmosphere had become intolerable and she’d had to retire to her room. Once again confined to solitude.

She sighed and lifted her head from what she was reading, blinking momentarily as she realised that her low burning fire was now the only pool of light in the large and hollow chambers. _Her_ chambers. Her own space, made with care and dripping in opulent fashions, a spacious bed with hangings, desk, dressing table, overstuffed chairs. She had stayed in similar rooms before as the right hand of a lord warranted such luxuries whenever they were available and in truth, when she thought back to her stays at either Stark or Fury’s castles, these were not the most exquisite lodgings she’d ever had. But they were the first that were exclusively hers. Not temporary lodgings, not a single soft night’s sleep that broke the pattern of canvas and dirt, all _hers_.

As an orphaned child she’d often fantasised of such things but those fantasies were always of a simpler nature, a small farm house, a miner’s cottage. She’d spend hours imaging how she would decorate and style her own place, what flowers she would grow, what foods she would cook, what crafts and paintings she would adored her home with and always, always she planned to have a room exclusively for books, ledgers, paper and ink. She would be a scholar, she would have a cat or a dog or a bird and her friends would always come to visit and her home would be full of light and warmth, and an ever present sense of tenderness and safety that had been so absent yet longed for in her youth.

The snow dampened darkness turned her chambers into a cavernous hollow, and impersonal space that seemed just on the edge of tipping and throwing her unwanted carcass out. Those dreams were from so very long ago. Before the curse that swept across the land, transforming ordinary people into incredible and horrifying things. Before the threat of war. Her whole life she’d wanted a home, any home, anywhere. She snorted and closed her book. _Careful what you wish for._

After putting her book back on the pile she’d strewn across the rug, Daisy quickly stoked the fire back into roaring life before she reached up and pulled out a long wooden taper that sat in a waiting bundle on top the fireplace. She set the end of it alight before carefully going around the room and lighting the many candles that adorned the walls and tables and within minutes a warming glow replaced the unsettling gloom, firelight bouncing and reflecting off the dark stone and burnished wooden surfaces that Castle Moruya seemed to be mostly comprised of. Lastly, she went to the two large windows and yanked the heavy curtains shut, turning back to inspect the room as she did. It was now perhaps a little cosier. Still just a room. Not her room. Not yet.

 _If am I going to make a life here, I am going to make my quarters suit me,_ she thought with determination, quickly setting upon her two small travelling chests and emptying them, something she had neglected to do the night before. In all honesty, she’d thought her previous behaviour, however justified, would have led to her expulsion from Trillieon and had kept her luggage packed in preparation for that. But Coulson had said that Queen May wanted her to make a home here, and Jemma and Fitz were making obvious efforts to at least understand her so …

In less than a minute all her clothes were stuffed into a single dresser drawer, her four books arranged neatly on the desk, her gauntlets with their sheathed daggers sitting prettily on her bedside table. Finally, she reached her last and most cherished possession, taking care to unwrap the small porcelain doll of a dancer from the far north-east. She knew this sort of doll was a rather common one and despite the upmost care taken parts of the paint had been worn away, yet she still cherished it. At the orphanage there would be donations made by the townsfolk, donations of clothes or toys. But she never got to rummage though the boxes at her own will as the nuns would carefully sort all these things and give them based on good behaviour or plain old favouritism, something that Daisy had always, in their eyes, failed to achieve. Oversized, scratchy shirts that she was told she should be grateful for and half broken games were usually what Daisy received until one day, when she happened to be at the gates just as an old man made a delivery of such goods. And there she was, right at the top of the pile. Daisy was certain that this was the loveliest thing she had ever laid eyes on and without hesitation had snatched it up with childish greed, concealing it from the nuns and all the other children for the next few years until she escaped the orphanage and tried for life on the road, taking the little dancing figurine with her. And she had kept her safe, all these years into adulthood and so many more miles travelled. These days Daisy was so concerned that the delicate figure would be broken that she almost never took it out, except to inspect it after particularly gruelling rides. But now … now she was not to be moving anymore, she was to always be in one place, her own place. She stood, casting her eyes around the room for the perfect position and after a small amount of deliberation finally decided on the twin bedside table opposite the one her gauntlets now sat on. She gently placed the it there as she sat, sinking into the plush mattress, simply staring at the doll as she let a wave of different memories washed over her for a moment until she reached out a single finger and gently tapped the lower portion of the figure. It started to sway in a gentle fashion, mimicking the movements of dancers Daisy was blessed enough to actually see, if only once in her life.

A formal rapping at her door roused her from her thoughts and she quickly called out “Come in!”, fully expecting Coulson as the two of them had planned to have dinner together. However, when a short woman with striking features and long brown hair entered Daisy quickly leap from her bed, startled and awkward. “Who are you?”

The woman drew up short at the confrontational greeting, shoulders stiff and chin high as she answered with controlled civility. “Miss Daisy. I am Lady Rodriguez, the stewardess of her majesty. I would beg your pardon for the intrusion, but you did invite me in.”

Daisy relaxed slightly, somewhat mollified by the lady’s even tone and obvious logic. “I’m sorry about that, but I was not expecting guests. And, it’s just ‘Daisy’.”

“Daisy,” Rodriguez repeated, dipping her head slightly. “I simply wished to introduce myself and properly welcome you to the Castle Moruya, and apologise from not greeting you yesterday. Please do not think that oversight will be repeated.”

“Thank you,” said Daisy, sincerely but not without a sense of deja-vu. “I’ll say one thing about you Trillieons, you sure like to make amends.” Rodriguez tilted her head quizzically. “I’ve already received apologies from both Lady Simmons and Fitz today. I’ve never had so many people eager for my forgiveness before.”

“You were treated ill after committing no wrong,” said Rodriguez seriously. “And now that you’re a member of our house I wish for you to feel welcome here. Do you have any requests that I might see to?”

“No,” said Daisy, more out of habit than desire as she was so used to being self-reliant that even the offer of assistance was immediately dismissed. But then her earlier thoughts came swimming back to the fore. “Actually … is it possible to change some of the fashions of these chambers?”

“They do not suit you?” asked Rodriguez, concerned.

“No, they’re fine.” Already she was feeling a little foolish for even asking and continued on tentatively. “But perhaps I could add some different kinds of art works? Or change the colour scheme of the linens? But if that is not allowed, then it’s fine.”

A strange softness came over Rodriguez’s face. “These are you chambers now, Daisy. You may do with them as you wish. You can start tomorrow, seeing as how this storm will be keeping all of us close to quarters for at least a week.”

“A week?” Daisy felt her jaw drop. “I knew Trillieon storms were big, but I never …”

“You never imagined something like this, no?” Rodriguez smiled gently. “Many outsiders feel as you do when they first encounter our weather.”

Daisy blew out a long sigh, rolling her shoulders against the sudden claustrophobic itch that came over her. “I once met a woman who was able to control the winds and rain with a mere thought. Not for the first time, I do wish I possessed her gift. Although,” she amended quickly, “I would never dream of giving my own up. It’s just a passing fancy, a typical envy.”

She grinned at this, but her joking smile slide off her face as she saw Rodriguez become ridged, her expression fixed and pained, and suddenly she was once again reminded of what she was really was here. An anomaly. A freak. However, to her surprise, Rodriguez merely let loose a long sigh as if she were attempting to expel all the tension from her body before asking, with exceeding if somewhat strained politeness, “Do you … do you know many others like yourself?”

“A few,” she answered cautiously, wondering where this was going.

“And are all your abilities so varied?”

“Almost always. I knew a man who could travel great distances with a thought, and a woman who could replicate herself many times over. Why do you ask?”

Rodriguez’s eyes darted downwards. “Curiosity. You are the first one of your kind I’ve ever met.”

“Inhuman,” said Daisy, gently yet pointedly. “You can simply call me Inhuman. It’s just what I am.”

Rodriguez pressed her lips together as she nodded quickly in understanding, but her mind seemed to be very far away. Daisy frowned, studying her. She had expected fear from any Trillieon, but this was something different. Rodriguez was not afraid, not in the way that Daisy usually witnessed in her presence, but there was an unnatural stiffness to her body, a tension which radiated out from her the moment Inhumans were mentioned. A few moments passed between them before Daisy spoke again.

“May I ask you a question?”

Rodriguez looked up. “Of course.”

She crossed her room to pick up one of the books she’d piled on her desk. “I have spent most of my day in the library reading of Trillieon and its ways, but I have yet to come across a single mention of Inhumans in any of your texts. How is that possible? The Awakening happened everywhere, crossing boarders, seas and ranges, and for the life of me I can not understand how this one little corner was unaffected.”

Daisy knew she didn’t imagine the look of panic in Rodriguez’s face as she quickly spouted out, as if she had said it many times before, “Trillieon has no Inhuman citizens. We are the last domain to be free of them.”

A long, ugly silence grew between them as Daisy’s expression hardened and Rodriguez’s eyes widened in shame at what she’d said.

“Well,” said Daisy coolly. “You have one now. And that didn’t answer my question.”

“Apologies, again,” said Rodriguez quickly. “I didn’t mean to offend, I —”

“Of course you didn’t mean it,” muttered Daisy, looking away. “Tell me, are Trillieon’s so quick to apologise simply because they are so quick to wound?”

Rodriguez gaped for a moment before saying very softly, “I do not know why there are no Inhumans here. I do not know why the curse did not visit us.”

“Curse?” Daisy turned back to look at her with a sardonic smile. “You think we’re cursed?”

But she was drawn up short when she saw a strange brightness to the stewardess’ eyes. “Are you not?”

A loud rapping at the door cut across whatever Daisy was about to say next and she tore her gaze away from Rodriguez’s face to call, “Come!”

The door swung open to reveal Coulson, clearly fresh from a bath and dressed casually. He paused in the doorway as the tension in the room washed out over him. “Have I arrived at a bad time?”

“Not at all,” said Rodriguez, her manner again as smooth and serene as ever. “I was just leaving.”

“Oh,”  said Coulson, stepping aside to allow Rodriguez to pass by. “Just before you do … who is in charge of the boundary defences?”

“The Queen’s Guard is headed by Sir Gonzales,” answered Rodriguez automatically, obviously desiring to be elsewhere.

“I wish to speak to him tomorrow about what is being done to keep them strong, if that’s possible.”

“The queen’s consort doesn’t need to involve himself in such matters …” began Rodriguez, but after actually looking up and seeing the grave expression that crossed his face quickly added, “But as you are newly arrived, I’m sure he will be more than happy to explain the basics of operations.”

“Thank you,” said Coulson, his smile not quite genuine as he handed Rodriguez out and closed the door softly behind her. Once alone he and Daisy shared a look and a sigh.

“What was that about?”

“What was _that_ about?”

“Nothing I haven’t endured before,” said Daisy, walking over to the seats by the fire where she and Coulson sat opposite each other. She paused, reflective. “I don’t think.”

“Are you well?”

“Yes, yes,” she replied honestly. After an entire day of new meetings and strained beginnings it was a relief to talk openly with someone again. “In fact, most of my day was spent rather comfortably in the company of Fitz, and the Lady Simmons seems at least willing to understand me. That’s more than what I’d hoped for.”

“Good, good. I’m glad of that,” said Coulson, somewhat distractedly as he extended his hands towards the fire, his gaze lost to the flames.

“And you?” asked Daisy, frowning. “You seem a little …”

“I’m well,” said Coulson quickly, looking back up at her. “I’m just concerned about something that’s just occurred.”

“Something to do with defences?” she asked. “Is that why you asked Rodriguez about them?”

He nodded. “There was someone following my as I walked back from the boundary wall this afternoon. Perhaps it was someone from the castle, but my instincts are telling me that this is an outsider.”

Daisy straightened, ready in an instant to don her gauntlets and rush to defences. “Have you alerted anyone? What it being done?”

“Nothing,” said Coulson flatly. “I was told that I was imagining things, that Moruya defences have not been breached in a century. The Queen’s Guard knows, but is unwilling to search the grounds while the storm rages. And by the time it’s over, any evidence will have disappeared.”

Daisy felt her jaw drop. “What? That’s — they just dismissed you?”

“You heard Rodriguez,” he shrugged. “ ‘The queen’s consort doesn’t involve himself in such matters’. I don’t believe any ill will happen tonight, it almost felt like a scout was passing by. But if these people do not take even the hint of invasion seriously, then they are most certainly not prepared for Hydra. I know I wasn’t chose for this role because of my military background, but still. It is a little surprising to be so … excluded.”

Daisy thought on this for a moment. “Speak to the Queen. She must be aware that her boarders are not as strong as many believe. Otherwise, why else would she have agreed to marrying you?”

Coulson rolled his eyes at her and she grinned roguishly in return. “I will, tomorrow. I believe you’re right. Most of my day was spent in Melinda’s company and I feel now that I have a more accurate idea of her character. She introduced me to the castle, explained it’s inner workings and then in the afternoon we actually took a ride together along the boundary walls, alone.” He paused. “After spending some time with her I’ve found her to be … exceedingly pleasant.”

Daisy gasped in mock horror. “Phillip! Were you with a lady, _unescorted_?”

“She’s my wife, I’m allowed,” snapped Coulson with playful impatience. Then he sobered. “Although the word does still feel strange on my tongue.”

“And after being with her, alone, what are your thoughts?”

He leaned back into his chair, considering. “She has a great love for her domain and its people. She is obviously intelligent but moreover, she is wise. She has a cool manner but a kind heart, and for some reason she didn’t seem to mind my chatter.” Beat. “I rather like her.”

“Wow,” drawled Daisy. “That was romantic. You should write sonnets.”

Coulson snorted and shifted in his chair. “If there were one word to describe our marriage, ‘ _romantic_ ’ would not be it.”

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

 

Melinda sat comfortably poised at the small dining table that was tucked in close to a large window, absentmindedly pushing the last vestiges of her breakfast around the bowl with the tip of her spoon, one hand on her chin as she gazed out at the never-ending whirling white that had now fully enveloped the castle. Ever since she was a child she had always found a strange sort of serenity during a white-out, the constant howling winds and icy daggers never once scaring or overwhelming her. Rather, the elimination of all views of the outside world gave the entire castle of Moruya a strange sense of detachment, as if it and the creatures within its walls were now the only living things left on the earth. Safe, secluded, untouchable. Added to this was the fact that every time there was a white-out an odd calm would descend over everyone. Business would start later, the tenants would lay in longer, sweeter things would be ordered for meals. Basically, a white-out signals a miniature holiday for the castle, a reason to take a breath and relax for a moment, as the weather would not permit them to do much else.

Though, she had to admit to herself, this feeling of soothing safety came about probably because every white-out she’d ever had to endure had been from the safety of a strong castle or similar hold across the domain, and if she had ever had the misfortune of being trapped in such a storm her views on the matter would have been greatly altered.

She sniffed and straightened in her seat, dropping her spoon. She knew Trillieon’s weather as she knew her own pulse and would never have been caught aware in such a tempest. So she supposed it was right that the beginning of the storm would signal a moment of peace here in the usually busy walls. That was simply the way things were done around here, and have been so for a hundred years.

There was a knock at the door. Thinking it was a servant here to collect her things she called out a lazy, “Enter,” eyes still fixed on the non-view outside her window.

She heard the door swing open then shut again before a soft and hesitant voice asked, “My lady?”

Melinda started and turned around to face Coulson, who was now standing a touch awkwardly by the door, hands clasped across his chest as if he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Philip! Good morning,” she said, surprised but not displeased. After Jemma had left her company yesterday she had thought a little more on the lord and had come to the conclusion that he truly wasn’t a bad person, and a more amicable arrangement between the two of them could only be advantageous. But such an arrangement could only exist if communication was open and honest between them. “Please, take a seat. Can I have anything brought up for you?”

“No, I thank you,” said Coulson as he sat opposite her. “I’ve already broken my fast. I’ve actually come to you on a matter of some importance.”

“You believe our borders were breached last night, and an unknown enemy made their way right to the castle walls.” She smiled gently at his astonished look, trying to convey that while she meant no insult he needed to know to whom he was speaking. “You will find that in a domain as small as Trillion there is very little of which I am unaware and in my house, nothing. Bobbi came to speak to me last evening of your concerns and Lady Elena shortly after to inform me of your request to speak to the Head of the Guards.”

Despite knowing she was correct, she was still relieved when Coulson smiled ruefully and shook his head in a manner that showed no offence had been taken. “I should have known how loyal your subjects would be. I hope you don’t see me as … meddling?”

“Not at all,” she said smoothly. “I fact, I believe that your knowledge and first hand experience will be very valuable to the domain as a whole, and I have already informed Sir Gonzales that he is to be expecting you later today.”

Coulson narrowed his eyes slightly, noting something else in her tone. “But you do not believe me,” he stated flatly.

Melinda sighed, her smile fading. “I believe you heard something. But whatever you heard happened right on the edges of a white-out, by the walls of a castle that has not seen conflict in nearly three hundred years. I can not believe that our boarders have been breached.”

“Just because a thing has always been a certain way, does not guarantee that it shall continue thus,” said Coulson. Melinda was surprised to see the edges of tightly controlled anger in his face. “I did not imagine anything last night.”

“And I’m not saying you did,” replied Melinda, starting to feel her own ire rise. “You think I am complacent about my people’s safety? I am not. I truly fear what may come to us from the south in future times. But I refuse to jump and cower at every small thing. Learn our ways, become familiar with our defences and then pass judgement on what should be done.”

“I know how to be a solider,” said Coulson sharply.

“But you do not know how to be a solider here,” retorted Melinda. “Bobbi told me that you wished to send out search parties last night, right at the beginning of a white-out?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head in horrified wonder. “I would _never_ sacrifice my subjects as easily as that. And if you actually knew the power of our storms you would never have suggested it in the first place.”

For the first time doubt entered Coulson’s eyes. “Are the storms truly that bad?”

“Even if there were a scout, they’d have frozen to death by now,” said Melinda. “And I can not believe that anyone would send a scout in such weather. Not because I think that Hydra are concerned about the lives of their foot-soldiers, but because that scout would never have returned with the information they had been sent out to seek. You were right,” she swallowed against the bitter pill of what needed to be said. “I do not believe you heard any _one_ out there last night. But that does not mean that I value you, your skills or your knowledge any less.”

Coulson nodded, clenching his jaw and averting his eyes. “I’m just too much of an outsider to be of any real use just yet.”

“You _are_ an outsider,” said Melinda, causing him to look up at her with an almost hurt expression.  She pressed on. “Daisy even more so. And until you know our history, our customs and our laws you will always be dismissed by those who now surround you. I do not wish this on either of you, but if you want to be treated respectfully you must also respect those who’ve lived here their entire lives, those who know the land as they know their own blood. That is why I wish for you to meet with Gonzales, to learn of our defences and to be an active part of them once you understand them.” She paused, casting around for something that would break this new tension between them. “After all, I didn’t just marry you for your cute face.”

There was a long moment where Coulson just stared blankly, as if he didn’t quite hear what she said. Then he let loose a huff of laughter and leaned back into his chair. “No you did not,” he agreed, crossing his arms and giving her a twisted smirk. “Although, admit it — it did sweeten the deal.”

“Oh, yes. Undoubtably.”

They shared another grin before Coulson asked, “So, when am I to begin this new training?”

“Early this afternoon. I’m afraid your morning had already been scheduled.”

He frowned. “Really? By whom?”

“The Head of the House, Mackenzie, has requested an audience. You’re needed to …” here she hesitated, just knowing that what she was about to say was going to ruin the new sense of peace. “You’re needed to help oversee the plans for your … welcoming banquet.”

There was a long pause.

“Welcoming banquet?”

“Yes.”

“As in, a ceremonial banquet, celebrating our union?”

“Yes.”

“As in wedding ball.”

The last wasn’t a question, but she answered it anyway. “Yes.”

“I suppose this is all part of my training, too?” he said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his words. “Well, I guess I’ll be able to adapt. After all, a month ago I was part of a unit that was negotiating the largest and most complicated treaty between the domains in known history, as well as preparing my soldiers for whatever Hydra has planned. A ball shouldn’t be too difficult after that.”

Melinda bit her tongue against the angry retort that sprung to mind, instead giving Coulson a pointed look as she let the moment stretch out into awkwardness between them until his shoulders eventually sagged and all the tension within him left in a sigh.

“Forgive me,” he muttered. “I am not accustomed to a life such as this and I find the whole thing rather … frustrating.”

“I understand,” said Melinda softly. “Pulled from your world in a day, taken to a land few outsiders ever think to go, and now put into roles you have little to no experience of. Almost as hard as, say, being forced to share your sovereignty with a stranger for the sake of a treaty.”

He looked up at her after these words, his face sad and honest. “I promised that I would serve you as loyally as any and I will. But majesty … Melinda … I am and always have been simply a solider. The title was a gift, nothing more. My place in Court so unimportant that my removal from it would go almost unnoticed, and that was the only thing Fury could offer you that would soften the blow; a low lord with a high connection. A ball should not concern me as much as it does, but I can’t help it. I almost feel as though this is just one of many things about this new world that I just don’t have any knowledge about, and that scares me. I have avoided thinking on this but I can’t deny it … I fear I will not be able to serve you as I promised.”

“And I believe that fear is unfounded,” said Melinda gently. “In many ways being the consort is very much like being, as you put it, a simple soldier. Loyalty, duty, sacrifice and restraint. Are these not qualities that you already possess? Of course they are. And you will be able to adapt them to this new, if strange living.” Suddenly her memory provided her with another image of the same room long ago, the golden summer’s light washing over Andrew as he expressed similar if fears as he sat opposite her. “You are not alone in your worries, by the way. My husband, Andrew, expressed similar concerns not one week after we were married.”

“Really?” asked Coulson carefully, intrigued. “But from what I heard he was of the blood.”

“Indeed he was, but the duties of consort are a lot more complicated than what heritage can teach. Still, he rose to the occasion.” She blinked, and the warm vision of Andrew disappeared.

“What was he like?” asked Coulson without thinking, before he checked himself. “Pardon me, if I’ve over-stepped …”

Melinda pressed her lips together momentarily. “No, it’s alright. You would learn of him eventually and in fact, I would much prefer you hear it from me rather than anyone else, honestly.” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “He was a healer who had travelled well outside of Trillion to learn his craft, and who specialised in the recovery of one’s mind. I saw him perform near miracles on people who all others had given up as lost, but who Andrew would never abandon. He was an intrinsically kind, caring person, very perceptive. I met him near twelve years ago and it was strange that we didn’t meet earlier, but fate it seems was always to conspire to keep us apart.” She stopped for a moment and swallowed hard. _Just the facts, Melinda. He doesn’t need to know any more than that._ She continued, as controlled as ever. “He belonged to one of the older families that lived by the boarder where the weather is even colder than ours, and while I knew his parents well enough over time our paths always seemed to just miss each other. He would be travelling or I would depart one day before his return. And when we finally did meet, even that was a surprise. I tour the boarders once a year — it’s tradition — and we just happened to encounter one another on the road, still a few days ride out from his house. By the time we reached his home, I knew I was going to marry him.”

“So quickly?”

“Oh yes. There was never any doubt.” She smiled faintly, her eyes distant. “And he made me very happy … for a while.”

Outside the wind howled through an otherwise unnaturally quiet world. Melinda’s gaze wandered across the room, unwilling to look Coulson in the face just yet for she knew what she would see. What she had always seen in people eyes these past six years. Pity. Never ending pity from those who didn’t truly comprehend her pain and just then she didn’t think the could endure it. However, when she finally looked at him, she saw something else entirely. Yes, there was pity, but there was also something else. An echo of her own sadness, a pained understanding, and suddenly she realised that he knew something of loss, too.

“He died on the boarders, did he not?” he asked gently.

Melinda nodded. The tears no long came to her eyes as she spoke of this, but that hollowed out ache in her chest grew and twisted her from the inside out. “Six years ago. He had gone out alone on a morning’s ride and … from there, we still do not know what exactly happened. All we know is that his body was discovered days later, well beyond our boundaries. I do not know why he crossed the wall, or who assailed him but in all honesty, I no longer feel it matters. He is gone. There is no changing that.”

She jumped slightly as his hand brushed over the top of hers, a hesitant offer of comfort that was still on the knifes edge of being withdrawn if not wanted. A modest touch, his fingers unsure and light against the back of her hand, and after a moments thought she turned her palm upwards to link her fingers with his. Somehow, this simple touch was enough to make that ache in her chest dull, if only for a moment.

“I am truly sorry for your loss,” said Philip quietly, and for once pity didn’t seem like such an ugly thing.

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Lady Rodriguez believed that she might be the only inmate of Moruya Castle that despised the quiet lethargy that came with a whiteout. Despite her administrative calling she was never one to enjoy the confines of stone walls, no matter how comforting and well set out those walls may be, and when she was interned behind those walls by forces beyond her control she felt a kind of nervous energy take hold of her, compelling her to work at a rushed pace until she was left with the only option of creating more work to keep herself occupied.

And with so much time and energy on her hands it wasn’t completely unexpected that she should then delve into more personal matters. 

Last night had been a prime example. The pretext to which she introduced herself to Daisy, while truthful at its core, was a laughably flimsy one. Yes, she did want to make sure that one of the newest inhabitants of the Castle was now faring comfortably but in reality she just wanted to see what an Inhuman, free to express and act as they pleased, really looked like. In a way, Rodriguez was neither surprised nor disappointed. She was validated.

Daisy Johnson was a pleasant, well spoken, very beautiful young woman, with a hard, prickly edge that was more then understandable. There was something defiant and lonely about her, lovely and sad, and in some shocking way Rodriguez found herself comparing Daisy to her Queen. She now had a deep interest in being present when those two women became properly acquainted. Only two things really surprised her about Daisy: how little she had and how boldly she spoke.

Rodriguez already knew that while Lord Coulson possessed lands and estates, he did not frequent them enough to be considered truly their master and had long ago passed them on to others who lived there in all but name, but she had thought that he and his companion would have at least had some sort or entourage following them into Trillieon. When Mackenzie had informed her that the two were not expecting any more deliveries the undeniable urge to investigate what these outsiders valued had become paramount. She had already seen to Coulson’s chambers, allowing herself entry to them while they were being cleaned in the morning. She had no care if the servants saw her and passed on such gossip though the castle. She had every right to be there, as it was her duty to ensure that no nefarious intent had somehow smuggled its way into her home in the guise of a new consort. She had reason. Her first encounter with Coulson had been a volatile one where she had seriously believed physical confrontation to be a real possibility. The next, he had wanted to know everything about the place he now lived. She needed to know what kind of man her Queen had married. She most definitely was not snooping.

And while she was not snooping, she found things to be just as they seemed. He presented as an ordinary soldier and for all intents and purposes, he was. A little more educated, considering the types of books he carried, and perhaps prone to sentiment if the surprising amount of trinkets she discovered was anything to go by. But all in all, he was not duplicitous.

Then she introduced herself to Daisy. She would have done so earlier had her other duties in the lead up to a whiteout not distracted her, and it was only later in the evening she had finally met the infamous creature sometimes known as Quake. And as with her inspection of Coulson’s quarters, she had found pretty much what she had expected. She had been surprised when Daisy had asked permission to change the decor of the room, and even more surprised at her own hearts painful little skip as she realised just how little this woman had. To be so unsure of her place in the world, even as she stood in her own private quarters, was something Rodriguez had never yet had to face. But then there was juxtaposition between that, and in the freedom by which she spoke of being Inhuman and of all the others she’d encounter who were similarly inflicted. She wasn’t boastful or ashamed. She simply was what she was and didn’t care to hide it. In that one aspect alone, Rodriguez was stunned.

When she had awoken to the Change she had believed she was dying. Her skin cracked and pealed, her heart thundered against her ribs and she burned from the inside out. She could only thank whatever cruel gods existed that this had all occurred in the privacy of her own quarters rather than out in the open, like some of the poor fools. Or so she had heard.

_“Trillieon has no Inhuman citizens. We are the last domain to be free of them.”_

Daisy’s questions had sounded a little too much like accusations and Rodriguez had responded with a verbal tic. And had felt immediate shame afterwards. Shame at having offended their newest citizen once more. Shame, for when she was finally in the company of one who might understand what had happened, she denied herself.

She knew she was repeating a lie. She was Inhuman. She had the ability to move at a pace beyond mortal understanding, faster than the eye could follow yet, as far as she knew, she was the only Inhuman in the entirety of Trillieon. Not only had she been fascinated to meet someone like herself, but she was further stunned to realise that Daisy knew others, many other, and seemed to regard them with a sense of kinship. Daisy did not seem to embody the stories Rodriguez had heard from outlanders of Inhumans fighting amongst themselves and for just a second, that was much longer for Rodriguez than anyone else, she had considered sharing her secret. But something had stopped her, held her back. Because while she believe she was the only Inhuman in the domain that did not stop her from listening to the rumours.

Rumours of strange men and women appearing on the streets, only to be whisked away by some unknown force before anyone truly knew them for what they were. Stories to frighten. Half imagined fancies. A flickering shadow seen in the dead of night. The whisper that the only reason Inhumans had not invaded their domain was because something much more terrible was keeping them at bay. That there was a monster hunting the monsters.

“Well, you’re looking very serious.”

Rodriguez fast beating heart nearly exploded as she had to resist the urge to turn around and smack Mack square in the chest. “Don’t _do_ that!”

The Head of the House held up his hands in surrender, a slow, gentle smile curving his lips. “Apologies, my lady,” he said, the deep timbre of his voice already soothing Rodriguez’s nerves and easing her towards forgiveness. “I didn’t realise I _could_ sneak up on you … or that you were so deep in thought.”

She sighed and leaned towards him. “I was, but those thoughts were not … I am glad you pulled me out of them. If not so happy about the way you did.”

Mack grinned then, after a quick glance to ensure the corridor was indeed empty, brought one of her hands to his lips and placed a chase kiss on her knuckles, his eyes smiling at her the whole time. She smiled back, so quickly changing from contained stewardess to loving woman that she somehow wondered if her curse could effect her in that way, too. She and Mack had always had a familiar, pleasant, exciting something hanging between them ever since Rodriguez had enter into the Queens service a few years ago. One of the main things that had endeared her to him was, that while she had never been made to feel unwelcome, of all those in Castle Moruya he was the only one who attempted to learn her language. Mack was a kind, thorough, sensitive man, though perhaps a little too slow and methodical at times, and their positions in the castle perfectly complimented each other which meant that they often worked together on various projects. At some point in the last year that professional relationship had slowly morphed and changed into something … more. They were not quite together, more than friends, and while she was not ashamed of what they had she was also not ready for anyone to really be involved just yet.

She had not told him of the change within her. She did not know if she could.

But for now she could enjoy the feeling of his warmth near her, his slow, calm presence lighting a small fire within her.

“I know how you can be during whiteouts, Elena,” said Mack, dropping their hands but keeping them twined together. “But just now you seemed even more melancholy than usual.”

“I am well, Mack,” she said smoothly. “Truly I am. Just a little more distracted than usual by our new arrivals.”

“Hm.” He nodded in seeming acceptance, but Elena could see how his eyes narrowed in thought. However, as a true born gentleman he did not pry. His respect for her privacy was just another thing she adored about him.

“And speaking of,” she continued, eager to clear her mind and dwell on other thoughts, “How was your meeting with our new consort?”

Now it was his turn to sigh, more in exaggerated frustration than relief, and Elena could feel her smile growing. “He truly is a general, not a lord. He would have me organising the dances like a military procession and cooking the food like solider’s slops than actual meals.”

Elena shrugged, linking her arms though his as the two of them walked down the deserted corridor, the air cool and light around them. “Perhaps you could petition to organise the ball yourself?”

He shook his head. “No. If he is to be the consort, he must accept all responsibly that comes with it. And he is trying. Frustrated and _frustrating_ though he may be he is at least trying, and I can’t help but respect him for that alone.”

Elena nodded. “That’s good to know. I am just on my way to greet him after the midday meal, to escort him to meet Sir Gonzales.”

“The Head of the Guard?” asked Mack, tilting his head in thought. “Yes, I supposed that makes sense. Might also explain why Coulson was so distracted during our session … probably had half a mind on what he wanted to say in regards of our defences more than our celebrations.”

At his slightly annoyed tone Elena squeezed his arm and pulled herself closer to his side. “Ah, but like you said, he is trying. I feel that it might take a while for everyone to be settled into whatever new life the castle now has.”

They had reached the end of the corridor. Mack let go of her hand to face her, dropping his large hands on her shoulders and rubbing them soothingly for a moment before he pulled her to his chest and encircled his large arms around her. Elena sighed contentedly and closed her eyes. There was something so calming about being held by a man like Mack and for a while the two of them simply indulged in that feeling before pulling apart.

“I should be finished my duties fairly early today,” said Mack, “Leaving my evening free. If you would care too …?”

“I would, absolutely,” smiled Elena. She might be imprisoned by the whiteout, but at least her fellow inmates were such enjoyable company.

They parted here, he heading back towards the kitchens and she making her way upstairs towards Lord Coulson’s chambers. It was towards the end of the lunch hour and though she was a little trepidatious at intruding Coulson had previously informed her that he didn’t mind if she came by a little earlier. He didn’t mention why, but she had a feeling he wished to speak to her in private. This open ending invitation was part of the reason she had felt so on edge because while she was fairly certain he just wanted to get to know her a little better, some small, paranoid part of her mind had convinced itself that he knew what she was. He might. He’d known Inhumans, travelled with them, befriended them, and while she knew that no-one could really tall an Inhuman just though sight alone she couldn’t shake the feeling that Coulson could somehow see right through her.

When she reached his chambers she drew a deep breath, steeled herself, and knocked.

“Come!” came the muffled voice from within, and she entered.

She first thing she noticed was how stiflingly hot the room was, just like Daisy’s had been, and felt a stab of sympathy for these folk from more gentler climes. He was alone, sitting at his desk as he sorted through a perilously large stack of papers where his attention was so focused that for a moment he didn’t look up to greet her.

And she just couldn’t help it. She didn’t know where the impulse came from. Curiosity, nervous energy looking for an outlet, even the insane desire to be caught by someone who may not fear her just so she could stop pretending and confess to what she was. Whatever it was, it all happened in an instant. She felt her heart beat once, solidly against her chest.

And then she stopped the world.

Lord Coulson froze in place — or rather, began to move so slowly it was almost imperceptible. Rodriguez calmly walked around to stand just behind him, moving carefully as not to disturb any of the loose lying papers as she had discovered that she could sometimes send such things flying. She frowned slightly as she looked down at what he was writing. He was studying old battles that had taken place in Trillieon, marking down specific areas of the domain, and for some reason he was coping all this information into a new kind of format. For a moment she thought that this just might be how he educated himself on such matters, through research and repetition, but there was something a bit odd about the way he was writing it and what things he was focusing on. What that was, she couldn’t quite place.

She started to feel that familiar pull in her chest letting her know that her time in this altered state was almost up, and she calmly walked back to her previous location just as the world snapped back into order.

Lord Coulson looked up. “Ah, Lady Rodriguez! Thank you for coming by a little earlier.” He hadn’t noticed. She didn’t know if she felt relieved or disappointed. “I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience for you?”

Rodriguez’s mind flicked back to Mack. “No, not at all.”

She didn’t miss the way he casually brought all the loose sheets into order, and then turned them over to hide their content. “How long will it take to reach Sir Gonzales?”

“Today, considering the whiteout, he had previously informed me that he will be spending most of his day in the library, which is only a short walk away.”

Coulson nodded slowly, looking unsure. “The library? I was hoping for a somewhat more … private conversation.”

“There are many small alcoves available, mostly for personal use,” said Rodriguez. “I believe he shall meet you in one of those.”

Coulson nodded again, but didn’t look convinced. However, he said nothing as he stood and donned his cloak (once again Rodriguez couldn’t help but marvel at how badly the cold effected him) before turning to her once again. “Would you please accompany me? I’m afraid I haven’t quite mastered the layout of the castle just yet and would hate to get lost.”

“Of course,” she answered serenely, though she didn’t buy it. The man was happy to traverse the grounds at the beginning of a whiteout, but became confused by hallways? No, now she was even more convinced that he wanted to speak with her about something. She would have much preferred he just come out with it but had learnt an age ago that with lords and commanders, sometimes it was just easier to let them go at their own pace with such things.

They left his chambers towards the library passing people every now and then to whom Rodriguez would smile and nod in greeting, occasionally adding a word or two of inquiry or instruction. She couldn’t help noticing how Coulson watched her as she worked.

About halfway there, he spoke. “I must confess myself a little confused as to your role, m’lady. Where I’m from, a stewardess usually performed the roles I saw Mackenzie do this morning or is administrative at the very least. But you appear to be more than that.”

“Because I am more,” smiled Rodriguez while not offering any more. After a few moments, Coulson got the hint and started to genuinely ask what questions were on his mind.

“You appear to know the House and all its duties, but do not manage it. You are a fighter — don’t think I didn’t miss those concealed daggers — but are not a member of the Guard. You have the power to act on the Queen’s behalf while she is absent, but do not appear to be a member of the royal family. In short … I do not believe I have seen the equivalent of your role before.”

“Because from what I hear, such a role does not really exist outside of Trillieon,” said Rodriguez. “The position of steward or stewardess is not a permanent one, but rather on a moving schedule between the Great Houses. We all take turns to serve our Queen for a period of about five years, or shorter if we’re less inclined. This is to ensure every House has equal standing, that we all have our turn to influence the running of the domain, and that there is no favouritism exhibited by the royal family. We must guide, protect and act in the name of our Queen until she releases us.”

Coulson took his time assessing this. “That is most certainly a different way of doing thing,” he agreed. “Complicated, but very fair. But does no-one ever wish to stay beyond five years?”

“Oh yes,” she said darkly. “And while that is always a worry when it happens, it hasn’t occurred in either May or her mother’s reign.”

“Why would that be a bad thing?”

“Because those that seek to stay longer generally have desired too much power, and have even plotted to overthrow the royal family themselves,” said Rodriguez with a bite of anger at the thought. “But like this, everyone has their say and everyone has their chance.”

“But what if they wish to stay longer after five years? Are they simply expelled anyway?”

Rodriguez shook her head, her smile returning. “No, not at all. Most do choose to return, but if they have found a home here, then here at home they remain. Like the Lady Simmons.”

Coulson started. “She was the stewardess?”

“Yes, the one before me. Very young, but very capable and with the advantage of being a member of May’s court for years before hand. She was all set to move back to her parents estate … and then found at the last moment that she could not bare to parted from Fitz.” _And I may very well have the same problem_ , she thought to herself, her mind once again going to Mack.

When they reached the library they found it to be much more occupied than usual by folks who were now looking for ways to relieve their boredom, but Rodriguez managed to quickly find the smaller side room where Sir Gonzales said he would be. After knocking firmly she pushed the heavy wooden door open to reveal the man himself, seated comfortably in a plush, high backed chair, his cane resting against the arm, his glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he studied an old book that sat opened on his lap. As they entered, Rodriguez still standing in the doorway, he closed the book slowly and looked up at them.

Gonzales was an old man with thick grey hair, a careworn, lined face, glasses and a cane, but not a single one of those things lessened the feeling of strength that radiated out from him at all times. Rodriguez knew how his soft spoken words could reverberate in the largest rooms and that of all people, when it came to the domain’s defences the Queen trusted him beyond all others. She hoped Coulson could learn something from him. She hoped Coulson wouldn’t overstep his mark.

“Sir Gonzales, may I present Lord Coulson, Consort of her Majesty,” she said, her own voice suddenly more restrained. Gonzales always made her nervous.

“A pleasure to meet you, sir,” said Coulson formally. “And may I again thank you for taking the time to see me.”

“For the next week we shall be made of little but time, so it is of no inconvenience to me,” he replied. His words were inoffensive, tone even, face unreadable, yet Rodriguez was suddenly very thankful that she was not required to sit through this little meeting. She did not know why, but it had suddenly become apparent that for some reason, Gonzales did not like Coulson.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” she said quickly, dipping her head as she excused herself.

“Thank you,” said Coulson, just as she made to close the door. “You were very helpful.”

To that she only smiled tightly in response, left, and counted her blessings that she was not in Coulson’s shoes. She felt that there would be consequences from this meeting, though what shape they would take and who they would effect, she could not yet tell.

It was only when she was halfway back towards her own chambers that a small niggling thought  that her mind had been furiously working over finally came to the front again. The strange research she had seen Coulson writing down in his room. She finally realised what it had reminded her of. To her eyes it almost looked like a report on all the strong strategical positions of their domain, something like a scout would write up. An evaluation of all their defences.

Rodriguez paused mid-step, a horrible idea coming to mind. Coulson was making a report of what he considered to be their weaknesses, studying the battles they’d lost and determining where a successful invasion would begin. But if he were truly concerned about that, would he have not brought those findings to Gonzales? And why conceal it from her?

Another thing occurred to her; Simmons had told her that Fury mentioned an invasion. Albeit, in an offhand way that May had dismissed but still, any threat from a greater power had to be considered. Outsiders didn’t trust them and this whole rushed marriage was a way to push through a more reliable treaty … but what if that wasn't their objective at all? What if they still considered annexing the domain a more surefire way to ensure secure southern boarders? What if Fury had only insisted on the marriage as a way to place his right hand man right at the very heart of a domain that was notorious to breach?

Rodriguez started as three small children, as aghast as herself to confined to indoors, went screaming past playing some sort of wooden sword game. She called out for them to be careful perhaps a little harsher than she usually would’ve, but her mind was still fixed elsewhere.

She told herself she was being paranoid, that neither Coulson nor Daisy were likely to cause them harm, but she couldn’t stop it. A seed of doubt is a terribly hard thing to uproot, even more so when it was planted their by your own ideas.

She looked out the window and snarled at the never-ending snowfall. She despised whiteouts.

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

As soon as Lady Rodriguez closed the door with a gentle thump Coulson let the sincerity of his smile fade, although the shape of it still remained on his face. He turned to Gonzales who was now regarding him with the same guarded contempt. He made no effort to stand and greet Coulson accordingly, and seeing as how the small study consisted of only one chair that complimented the single desk, window and fireplace, Coulson was now left with no other option than to stand to attention before Gonzales. He knew now that the choice to meet at this specific location had not been an accidental one.

He decided that he was not going to be intimidated. He was, however, ready to be difficult.

“Lord Coulson,” began Gonzales, dipping his head a fraction. “I know you don’t know me, but I —”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” interrupted Coulson. He really didn’t see that even the pretence of niceties were required at this point. “I actually know quite a lot about you.”

A sudden blink was the only indication that Gonzales was either surprised or annoyed. “Is that so?”

“Sir Robert Gonzales,” he started. “Not of the blood, but still from a family of decent enough standing that when you applied to the Guard at a young age you were quickly accepted, and managed to rise through the ranks at remarkable speed. After an impressive tour of the Boarders you eventually returned to Moruya to join the Queens Guards and continued to serve until your marriage. You then left the Guard and returned to your hometown to live as a farmer for many years, though still kept your sword and your mind sharp. After the sudden death of your wife you returned to Moruya with renewed vigour and swiftly became the Head of the Guard, a position you have held for many years.”

There was a small pause. The fire cracked and popped.

“How do you know this?” Gonzales eventually asked.

“Her majesty informed me of the particulars this morning, although word of your accomplishments have travelled beyond even these boarders.”

Gonzales nodded. “Hm. Her majesty. I supposed she also informed you that it was my own idea to seek out treaties with the greater domains?”

“Yes,” said Coulson. “And considering how insular Trillieon and its people are, this leads me to believe that you are have come very serious concerns about the strength of your boarders and the safety of your people.”

“I am the Head of the Guard. I am always concerned about those things.”

“But Trillieon has not sought outside assistance in decades,” frowned Coulson. “From all reports Trillieon has been neither threatened nor attacked, so when we received word Queen May was travelling to meet us at an encampment of all places we could not understand why. Nevertheless  something must have happened to change your policy of non-involvement, something significant, but I’ve yet to hear or see anything deeply amiss. Why is that?”

Gonzales’ cool look became even more icy yet he did not seem disturbed, merely calculating. When he spoke, it was of a completely different matter that came at Coulson like a haymaker. “I hear you were at the centre of the Battle for Afterlife. Is that true?”

Coulson froze, his face becoming carefully neutral. Yet that in itself was a give away and as the seconds lengthened Gonzales shrugged one shoulder and leaned over to stoke the almost smothered flames. “So it is true.”

“Yes, I was there. One of the few who actually were,” said Coulson, damning himself but also desperate to know exactly what version of that story had somehow wound its way to Trillieon. Even as he felt the slight twinges of panic, like witnessing flood waters gently lapping underneath the front door, some small part of him was calmed with the knowledge that even if Gonzales knew something he couldn’t possibly know the horrible truth of it all. Because if he did then Melinda would also know and he felt he knew enough of her character to suspect that she would not have been silent on such a horrible past.

For reasons beyond his understanding, just the thought that Melinda might even suspect what his involvement might have been at that catastrophe caused a sharp new fear to pierce him with a fresh kind of panic before logical thought soothed that wound. She couldn’t know. If she knew what had happened at Afterlife and what part he played, she would never have allowed Coulson to even stand in the same room as her let alone wed her. As he reached the end of his thoughts, his panic eased. She didn’t know. She couldn’t even suspect. But Gonzales seemed to be playing an angle, using Afterlife as a wedge and seeing if he would slip, but for what reason Coulson could not yet see. He would, however, play along. “Perhaps I can illuminate you on what actually occurred, if you’re so inclined.”

“Yes, please. You see, even all the way down here we do sometimes tend to hear news of the outside world,” said Gonzales with a touch of sarcasm, and Coulson cursed inwardly as he realised that Gonzales could read his face more clearly than he originally thought. “But you would be correct in thinking that such long travelled words might have lost its true meaning over time. It happens.” His face became stony. “The tale that I heard says that the Battle for Afterlife was the catalyst that began the Inhuman invasion in our world, that this great evil was unleashed from that one spot and that only a precious few know exactly how that came about. And that you were one of those few. You may be surprised to learn that your name managed to come here well before you did.”

“Well, I _am_ surprised at that,” said Coulson evenly, “Because while you are correct in part — I was at the battle — I was not as an integral character to this narrative as you seem to think me and in all honesty, I can’t really add more to this tale than what you’ve told me.”

For a moment Gonzales regarded him with open incredulity, the most animated his face had been this entire discussion. “Really.”

“My oath,” he said smoothly. “So yes, I was present at the Battle for Afterlife but no, I never journeyed to centre of the temple and most certainly can not say whether that battle had any influence on the emergence of the Inhumans. In fact, we didn’t even encounter any of them until many months after that battle … unless you happened upon them earlier?”

“Trillieon has no Inhuman citizens,” said Gonzales.

Coulson might have imagined it, but he could not help but feel that he detected a hint of pride in the way he said it. He didn’t point out that Daisy was now all but a Trillieon citizen. Some protective instinct warned him to keep her name out of any conversation with Gonzales for as long as possible, so he simply hummed a noncommittal response to that before pressing on with, “Now, I’ve answered your question yet my own hasn’t seen the same curtsy.”

“That is because you are in no position to demand any such curtsy,” replied Gonzales sharply. Coulson was once again surprised, this time at how quickly Gonzales had dropped the pretence of civility. This one would most certainly keep him on his toes. His next words sent hot and icy spikes up and now his spine. “When I suggested that her majesty seek stronger alliances with outsiders I did not in any way mean that she should sacrifice her name, her dignity and her domain for such a treaty. This marriage is the worst kind of farce. You know it. She knows it. The entire domain knows it. It should never have come to pass.”

“She agreed to it,” said Coulson tersely, trying to ignore the sudden sick feeling that now coated the bottom of his stomach.

“She was coerced. Don’t pretend that there is any other word for it. You shouldn’t be here, nor should that little animal of yours and if you think for one moment that your farcical position as consort means that I will happily divulge information concerning the security of the domain then you have another thing coming.” He paused, grabbing his cane, using it to push himself up from the armchair. It was only then that Coulson realised how tall and solidly built Gonzales was. “Her majesty instructed me to share with you any information about the safety of the domain that _I_ deemed acceptable. And I do not think that someone who has wormed his way into our castle on the behalf of a king like Fury deserves to know anything.”

At that Gonzales walked over to the door and opened it, indicating that the conversation was at a close. Coulson walked out with as much tattered dignity as he could muster, pausing at the threshold and turning back for one last word. “You know, you could have saved us both a lot of time by just opening with that.”

“I get bored during whiteouts,” said Gonzales with a shrug, a slight smirk now twisting his lips. Coulson felt his stomach fall further as he realised that the entire thing had been a ruse from the very beginning. “And if I can’t find my sport outside, I will have to make do with what sport I can find within.”

And then he shut the door in his face.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Two weeks passed. Work had crawled to an almost standstill and the calm, sleepy energy from the earlier days had now morphed into a playful restlessness that for now was still contained, and not yet quite the cabin-fever stage.

The atmosphere had spread even to Castle Moruya’s newest inhabitant, as the feeling in Daisy’s chambers was one of childish joviality as she and Jemma lounged on the thick rug in front of the fireplace with books spread about them, open yet temporarily unread,  trays of half-eaten sweets and other indulgences also close at hand. Fitz sat at the desk nearby, studying Daisy’s gauntlets with the fascinated fixation of an inventor trying to see how something had been created and all of them were laughing as Jemma wound up at tale of an adventure she’d had in her childhood, Daisy doubled over and clutching her stomach, Fitz grinning as he happily listened once again to the story he’d heard many times before.

“And they never thought it was you?” wheezed Daisy as she finally managed to catch her breath.

“Not once, not ever for a moment!” laughed Jemma. “I was always such a good girl, always following the rules and staying well out of the way of everyone else. No-one ever suspected that I would have been the one to — _accidentally_ — shoot one of the lecturers.”

“I did,” said Fitz, eyes still on the gauntlet he held.

“ _Yes_ ,” replied Jemma as she untucked her legs from underneath her and stretched her bare feet towards the fireplace. “But you never said anything, either.”

Daisy raised her eyebrows. “Because you two were already …?”

“Oh, goodness, no!” laughed Jemma, wriggling her toes. “Not at all. We didn’t even like each other at that point.”

“Bitter rivals,” nodded Fitz.

“Really?” said Daisy, surprised. “I would never have thought that!”

“Well, it did take a lot of time, a lot of changes from the both of us,” said Jemma, turning to smile sweetly at her husband who returned it almost on instinct. “Rivals as children, then comrades, confidants and finally …” At this Fitz stood up from the table and moved to settle with the women on the rug, still holding one gauntlet as her kissed Jemma’s crown before sitting down.

Daisy smiled at the scene in front of her. The food and wine from earlier now sat heavily within her, the fire heated her back soothingly, the rug comfortable and the company surprisingly enjoyable. Well, she had already thought Jemma and Fitz would be good company but now that she knew that they too had a devilish streak beneath all that finery all three of them had bonded at a startling rate. At the beginning of the whiteout they had met only for a few hours every second day, primarily to research Providence, but that had soon evolved into longer and longer meetings that eventually just turned into little parties, rich with good food and better stories. The pretence for meeting in Daisy’s chambers had been to discuss decorations. That had quickly dissolved into friendly banter.

“You better not break that,” Daisy warned Fitz lightly as he continued to fiddle with her gauntlet. “That was designed by Tony Stark himself and trust me when I say that it would be a heck of a long journey to get that repaired.”

“I’m not going to break it,” said Fitz in an almost petulant manner, causing Daisy and Jemma to share a grin over his head. “In fact, I was thinking that I could actually make a few modifications.”

“Oh, did you?” Daisy raised her eyebrows. “You sound confident.”

“Yes, well, I usually am about this sort of thing,” said Fitz, only half paying attention to the conversation. “But I’d of course have to see you in action, see how you use it before I attempt any such thing.”

Daisy shot a comically alarmed look at Jemma. “I remember saying you could look at them Fitz, not change them. I don’t remember saying _that_. Jemma, did I say that?”

“No, you did not,” said Jemma primly, snatching the gauntlet out of Fitz’s hand and throwing it deftly to Daisy as Fitz looked up in alarm. “Fitz, we’ve talked about this sort of thing.”

“Hey! I … I was just looking!”

“Oh Gods, how do you win any fights with this one?” asked Daisy. “Look at those eyes.” She quickly handed the gauntlet back and held up her hands in false surrender. “I can’t deny anything to someone who is able to conjure up an expression like that.”

Jemma sighed dramatically. “Is it difficult but I assure you, you will develop an immunity to it.”

“Yes, yes, mock me if you must but I’ll have you know that look is a powerful one that I shall use whenever I please,” sniffed Fitz, going back to work. He quickly snatched a look up at Daisy. “But I still want to see how you actually use them.”

“I have no problem with that,” said Daisy. “But not indoors. In fact, if you really want to see what I can do, we’ll have to be far, far away from any structure you still want standing.”

“Intriguing,” muttered Fitz.

“Well, we shan't be confined to quarters much long,” said Jemma, looking out the window.  Daisy followed her gaze and watched as light dustings of snow spun and wheeled haphazardly downward, an absolute shadow of the dumping that poured down upon them only a week ago. The sky was much lighter than it had been in previous days and just that morning Daisy was sure that she had been able to make out the silhouette of the far distance ranges. The whiteout was slowly coming to an end.

Daisy sighed. “I never thought I’d be able to stand being cooped up for so long. But this had been … well …” She trailed off then followed Jemma’s led by stretching her legs outwards and towards the fire. “This had been really nice. Before, I never really got a chance to just … be.”

“In a way the timing of the whiteout really was fortuitous,” said Jemma thoughtfully. “If this was all just business as usual we would have all been too busy rushing about the place to really just take the time to get to know one another. A moment to breath before everything goes back to normal. You even got a few moments alone with the queen.”

“Yeah …” Daisy’s pleasant mood ebbed for a moment as her mind flashed back to three somewhat awkward dinners where she chattered nervously the entire time while May spoke all of three sentences, and a drawn out, almost completely silent game of Maces and Talons were May had nearly lost because she had underestimated Daisy’s abilities but had ultimately saved face with a crushing victory. “We sure did.”

“She likes you,” said Jemma earnestly, placing her hand on Daisy’s. “She really does like you!”

“Sure …” Daisy had already confined in Jemma and Fitz her doubts as to whether or not May really thought kindly of her, and while Jemma had been adamant that the queen truly enjoyed her presence Daisy still wasn’t quite so sure.

Jemma bit her bottom lip slightly, and Daisy knew there was a question coming. “She also enjoys spending time with Coulson but … from what I hear … they’re not spending nearly as much time together as they could be.”

Daisy sighed as she felt the carefree spirit they’d cultivated slowly seep from the room. This was a subject that had been worrying the three of them from the past week now. Even Fitz lowered the gauntlet.

“Nothing seems to be _wrong_ ,” he said quickly. “They take meals together, speak of history, play Maces and Talons. It’s just …”

“I know,” said Daisy. “They are both perfectly polite and civil. And impersonal.”

“At the beginning I thought things between them were going so well,” said Jemma, frowning. “I mean, a private ride around the boundaries? That’s pretty significant.”

“For Trillieon, I guess,” Daisy said incredulously. “But, yeah, I know what you mean.”

“In all honesty, Coulson’s been spending more time with Mack preparing for the feast than he has been with his wife,” said Fitz. “Not that Mack isn’t wonderful company, but …”

“But we thought he’d be … I don’t know what we thought,” finished Jemma glumly. “What do you think, Daisy? You know him best.”

 _I think that Gonzales, who looks at me like he wants to throw me into the deepest, darkest hole, said something to him that’s desperately unnerved him and he’s pulling away from May because of it._ “I don’t know.”

Jemma looked at her skeptically. “Oh really?”

 _Dammit._ One drawback to spending so much time together was that now Jemma had a pretty good read on her. “Okay, I have a theory but … if wrong … just voicing it would make things very uncomfortable.”

For a moment Jemma and Fitz simply stared at her, before Fitz shrugged and went back to the gauntlet. “Fair enough.”

“Thank you.”

“There’s just a very strange tension coming from Coulson. Everyone can feel it. Could you maybe, have a word with him? Find out what the trouble is?” Jemma looked at Daisy imploringly.

 _I’ve tried._ “I’ll try.”

Truth was, even Daisy wasn’t overly sure what had Coulson pulling away from them, if it could even be called that. He was still out and about, taking, learning, settling into a life so different from his previous one, but where Daisy had taken to this world with surprising ease she sometimes felt Coulson was still struggling to catch up. She had tentatively tried to broach this subject two times already and each time had been gently, but firmly, rebuked. She sighed again, her eyes unwittingly drifting towards the window yet again. The snowfall seemed even lighter now. Soon this bubble of peace would pop and Coulson would have nowhere to hide anymore.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't noticed yet, Maces and Talons is from How to Train Your Dragon, Race To The Edge. I might have been binging that when I should've been doing this. :D Also ... dragons ...?


	11. Chapter 11

 

 

 

The first thing Melinda saw when she entered the antechamber adjoined to the great hall that served as her office was not only the fact that it was now flooded with natural sunlight — something that had been sourly missing for weeks now — but that Lady Rodriguez had beaten her there in preparation for that morning’s business. Her slim figure cut a dark line in the otherwise illuminated room, where she had one shoulder gently pressed against the frame of one of the large windows, arms crossed, a small smile sitting lightly on her lips. She looked more relaxed in that one moment than she had been for the past month.

“Good morrow, majesty,” she called out happily.

“Good morrow,” she replied in turn, smiling knowingly. “You’re looking delightfully well.”

Rodriguez grinned at this and stretched her arms out into the light, like a cat. “It’s just so wonderful to feel the sun against my skin again!” she exclaimed joyfully. “Sometimes the whiteouts last so long here that I begin to fear that I may never see that wondrous blue beauty again, or feel its warmth.”

“Yes, well, no storm last forever,” said Melinda practically, moving to seat herself behind her desk as she began to look through the newest stack of parchments that seemed to have manifested themselves out of nothing during the night. “And no small holidays, either. Looks like businesses has awoken with the return of the sun.”

“For that, I am glad,” said Rodriguez firmly as she left the window to stand opposite Melinda, the desk now between them. “My hands require actions, my mind needs stimulation or else I do very much fear I may run made with want of occupation!”

“For that, we shall have plenty.” Melinda paused and made a small, strange face as she looked over the latest requests from the kitchen before handing that over to Rodriguez to look over. “I know you don’t like whiteouts, Elena, but you seemed to be even less inclined to this one. Was there any particular reason?”

She made sure to ask the question innocently enough but the truth of it was, she was actually a little concerned about the well being of her stewardess. Elena’s spirits had sunk so low this past whiteout that just the other night she and Mackenzie had even once privately conferred on what the two of them might do to lift them. Seeing Elena so light and happy this morning did a lot to raise the weight of worry for her shoulders and confirm that it was indeed a seasonal depression, but Melinda still wanted to be absolutely certain that she needn’t worry about one of her closest companions.

The question didn’t seem to bother Elena as she simply shrugged while keeping her eyes on the kitchen’s requests. “Not really. I think it may have just been the suddenness of it all, and the fact that the weather was so abysmal in the lead up to the lockdown. I hadn’t had much opportunity to enjoy clear skies even before the whiteout.” She raised her eyes from the parchment and smiled. “As you know, it is not in my nature to always be confined to one spot.”

Melinda sighed silently as the last of her worries left her, although she did make a mental note to keep an eye on Elena for the next few weeks, just to make sure her lifted mood didn’t falter. “Well, I’m glad that sunshine has made you feel better. I’m only saddened that you couldn’t enjoy the reprieve as much as the rest of us.”

Elena crinkled her nose as she moved onto the next stack of parchments. “Don’t worry about that, you can keep your winter holidays. If I could will it, I would have every days as fine as this one.”

“ ‘Too much sunshine makes a desert.’ ” The old saying slipped thoughtlessly off Melinda’s tongue.

“Yes, well, not enough makes me crazy!” laughed Elena. “My mother used to bring out that one out when I was younger, but I always thought it was just one of those things people said to make you stop complaining about the weather.”

Melinda grinned and nodded a tad sheepishly. “That may be so. Please, take a seat. Looks like we may be here for awhile.”

Elena gracefully sat down opposite her, handing back the parchment after a minor alteration. “I’ve already sorted through a lot of this and while there us a decent backlog, it’s all very minor things. This, for example, is only being put through now because of the banquet that’s currently being planned.”

For just a fraction of a second Melinda gave the same small, strange look she had previously when she’d first glanced at the request and realised what it was. The she blinked and nodded as if nothing had affected her, making a simply humming noise as she kept her eyes on the papers in her hand. Elena did not fail to see every one of those micro-expressions.

After a few moments passed, Elena pressed on. “Do you want to perhaps look over the orders? See that everything is to your liking?”

“Oh, no,” she said airily, quickly. “Mackenzie always puts on the most marvellous arrangements. I have utter faith that that one shall be quiet exquisite, as were all the others.”

Another long moment. Melinda could feel Elena’s eyes on her and for a second she was tempted to just ignore her stewardess. But, knowing how undiplomatic and just downright childish such a move would be, she eventually raised her eyes to meet Elena’s, steeling herself for the inevitable question.

“But aren’t you curious as to what Lord Coulson has planned?”

“No,” she said, honestly, although that honesty didn’t stop that small, confused feeling that had been growing in her heart the past few weeks. “We’ve already discussed it.”

“Really?” Elena sounded surprised.

“Yes.” Her attention was now diverted to a request from one of the grand houses to the south, asking for additional soldiers for the borderlands for the later months of winter. “He seemed to find the exercise … tedious, at first, but Mackenzie has informed me that he became rather proficient and dedicated by this point.”

“Very well,” said Elena slowly, although she did not look overly convinced. What she needed to be convinced of, Melinda didn’t want to dwell on. She then said, in a funny tone that almost suggested the opposite; “Well, I suppose it’s good that he’s attempting to learn our ways at any rate.”

Melinda looked up sharply at this, but Elena was focused on her work. After a few moments of contemplation she once again simply hummed, her eyes dropping back on the parchment in front of her, her mind going back over the events of that past few weeks.

Considering there wasn’t anywhere else to go, she and Phillip were certainly having difficulties managing to find time to spend together, to get better acquainted. She wouldn’t exactly say that he’d been avoiding her, but he wasn’t making much of an effort to seek her out. And she knew when it had all started going sour. It had started after his meeting with Gonzales.

 

_Elena herself had reported to Melinda right after Phillip had entered into his meeting with Gonzales, and right from the beginning she knew her Head of the Guard well enough to know that things would not go well. He had refused to meet Phillip in either his private offices or the war room, so therefore clearly already had no intention of sharing any tactical information with Phillip whatsoever. Others may have missed that but Melinda had instantly felt cold anger and disappointment in Gonzales for what was obviously a rather cruel display of dominance over the newly arrived Phillip. Once Elena had informed her of what was happening Melinda had had half a mind to march down to the library and expose this charade. She was kept back from this impulsive action by reminding herself that the meeting would probably be over before she got there, and that there was no sense in publicly humiliating her consort and her Head of the Guard. However, the moment she got word that the farce of a meeting was over she ordered Gonzales to her presence._

_She gave no greeting as he entered the room and simply said, “Explain.”_

_At least he had the grace not to try and fool her. “I never had any intention of telling an outsider, who has been here a grand total of two nights, anything about our inner defences. I did this publicly, to see how he would react.”_

_“You were petty and childish for that sake of it alone,” snapped Melinda, her voice even. “And you not only embarrassed my consort but, in extension, me.”_

_Gonzales blinked, and for the first time looked surprised. “That was no my intention, at all.”_

_Melinda scoffed. “How could it not have been? I asked you to discuss our security with him and while you agreed it is now clear that you never intended to honour that. So why agree?”_

_She might have been imagining it, but Gonzales’ usually unreadable face almost seemed to take on a sour look. “I do not like to deny anything of my queen.”_

_“That doesn’t mean much if you then find ways to circumvent orders you do not agree with,” she said cooly._

_His lips pressed together slightly and she could see she got him with that. He then took a breath and bowed his head. “Then I must apologise, your majesty. For not taking this task as seriously as you did.”_

_“I beg your pardon?”_

_He looked up. “I’m saying I clearly misjudged the situation. I thought you were handing the newcomer onto me as a way of halting any further enquiries.” At her somewhat stunned look, he continued. “Your so-called marriage to this man in exchange for the most tenuous of treaties is no secret, majesty. I know you only agreed to it as the only way secure even the most basic allegiances, and for that I and the domain humbly thank you.” He sketched out another shallow bow. “But I thought that was where the civilities were to end. This man has no right to be here. He is just a pawn in some game the greater domains are currently playing and has as much business in our defences and he does in your chambers.”_

_“Careful,” warned Melinda, her voice now icy. His somewhat vulgar comment had surprised her, but it did not put her off balance. “Regardless of what you think, Lord Coulson is now my consort, and should be treated with all the respect the position demands.”_

_There was a very long pause and for a brief, startling moment, as she watched his eyes harden, Melinda thought that Gonzales might actually challenge her on the matter. Something unprecedented. Then he once again bowed his head. “Very well. I suppose you want to reschedule our meeting, then?”_

_There was an underlying bitterness to this request, almost undetectable to anyone who didn’t know Gonzales as well as Melinda did. She didn’t comment on it. She did, however, answer in turn._

_“No, Lord Gonzales. Some things do not bare repeating.” Already she was thinking of setting up a meeting with Morse and Coulson, as two soldiers might more readily see eye to eye. “And let me assure you that the next time I give you orders, I’ll make sure to advise you when I do or do not have secret meanings and intentions hidden within them. Dismissed.”_

 

Melinda sighed, her signature moving across the pages without thought. She and her Head of the Guard usually maintained a harmonious relationship but this little bump wasn’t the first, nor did she believe would be their last one. In a way, she found a bizarre solace in this. The last thing she needed was a commander who acted out her every order without question and being challenged forced her to think about what she was doing. However, in this circumstance, it seemed to have done more harm than good, because from that day on things between her and Coulson had become … cold.

She wouldn’t go so far as to say that things were uncomfortable or even unpleasant, just that what she had previously thought was a developing relationship seemed to have stalled. Or perhaps, this was as far as the two of them were ever going to get. As far as he would allow them to go.

They still shared meals at least once a day, usually during the midday break, and while Coulson still seemed as talkative as ever it dawned on Melinda, a few days after the debacle with Gonzales, that he actually wasn’t saying anything at all. All conversations were rather superficial, centred around neutral subjects such as history and science and sometimes a touch of philosophy that Melinda now thought Coulson might’ve strayed into without realising. Once they had discovered their mutual love of the strategy game Maces and Talons Coulson had taken to asking her to play against him which, while delightfully intellectually challenging and held in a private setting, did not  actually leave a lot of time for personal conversation. Melinda now believe that that may have been Coulson’s goal all along.

On reflection of the past few weeks Melinda could now see that Coulson had been subtly cultivating the appearance of some sort of relationship while at the same time had been carefully avoiding all personal subjects to the point where, almost five weeks after taking their vows, she knew just as much about him now as she did the first day they met.

This made her resentful. It roused a small, suspicious flame in the base of her stomach. Even worst, and the thing she disliked the most about all this, was how his manner had actually made her upset.

She wasn’t wailing away like a jilted lover or spending her free time pining for his attention whilst staring listlessly out a frosted window. That was never her. But when she thought of how she had opened up to him about Andrew, of how she would sometimes sleeplessly wander the castle, of her own doubts about this marriage … and then would think of how he refused to allow her to see any personal side of himself, even as a curtsy … she was upset. And annoyed. And just plain irritated that the thoughts of his behaviour were filling her head to further frustrate her, even when he wasn’t present.

Her eyes drifted back over to the stack of papers that contained demands for various items needed for the banquet. And she thought back to a snippet of conversation she’d had with Coulson just a few nights before.

 

_They had both been leaning over the broad table that held the pieces of Mace and Talons. It was Coulson’s turn and his head was bowed in thought, hands clasped together in front of him as he stared at the small pewter pieces and contemplated his next turn. Melinda, in turn, was reclining gracefully back in her chair, confident that the way she’d set up her attack meant that he would be straining for a while to figure out how to get out of this trap. It hadn’t quite yet been determined who was the better player and so far they had a fairly equal share of losses and wins, which had awoken the quiet yet undeniable competitive streak in both of them._

_But one could only get by on games for so long and, feeling bored, Melinda decided to ask Coulson how the banquet was coming along._

_He’d shrugged, his eyes never leaving the table. “Well enough, I believe. At any rate, I don’t think Mackenzie still dreams of locking me away in some dark room where I can’t interfere with his plans anymore.”_

_She’d smiled, despite herself. However cold he was making himself, he was still trying to make her smile. “But surely you’ve taken the time to add some element of your own tastes to the festivities?”_

_At this he did look up, frowning, and asked her one simple question that stunned her. “Why?”_

_She sat up straighter, confused. “Why? Because this is your welcoming banquet and wedding feast. Your introduction to the domain. Surely you have some sort of tradition you wish to hold onto?”_

_He smiled at this, and it was neither a happy or an over pleasant smile. “Melinda … we both know that this banquet isn’t really for me. It’s not for either of us. It’s just a trivial bit of colour and sweetness that’ll help swallow the bitter pill that is this treaty. And besides, considering how little Trillieon thinks of outsiders I didn’t really think it appropriate for me to highlight the fact by trying to wedge some new traditions in amongst the old ones.”_

_Melinda sat there, gaping, shocked not only at how dismissive he had been about all of it but at what she’d detected underneath the offhanded tone. She might’ve been wrong, but she thought he’d sounded depressed. Defeated._

_“Phillip, this is your wedding banquet. Perhaps the only one you’ll even have,” she said gently. “You should feel free to arrange it in any way you want.”_

_“But I don’t care to,” he said, and she could see that was the honest truth. “Don’t get me wrong, as far as farces go this is a very pleasant one.” At this he sketched out a little bow. “But you’ve already had a true wedding banquet and I’ve never cared for one. I don’t see why either of us should buy into this performance anymore than necessary.” Before she could answer his eyes had flickered downward to the board again and he deftly moved a piece into a risky position._

_“You might regret that,” said Melinda carefully. He met her eyes again and for a long, unspoken moment they both seemed to acknowledge that she wasn’t just talking about the game._

 

Suddenly, in the present moment, a distant rumbling crack that rent the air, almost like thunder had torn through the clear blue sky.

Both Melinda and Elena jumped and looked up from their work, exchanging puzzled glances.

“Where did that come from?” asked Melinda as the sounded faded away. Distantly, she could hear the hunting dogs down in the courtyard begin to bark wildly.

Elena began to shake her head but then her eyes widened as she caught sight of something happening in the far distance. “What in the name of the ancient gods …?”

Melinda followed her gaze to the window and quickly walked over to fling them open and get a better view.

Far off in the distance, on one of the massive mountain ranges that surrounded Moruya, a whole section of snow and rocks had broken off and was now crumbling and rolling steadily down the steep slope. Melinda knew that area was uninhabited and was relieved that there would be no chance of causalities but still, the sheer suddenness and scale of the avalanche was horrifically breath-taking. Then things became strange.

As she and Elena watched the torrent of debris froze as if it had never been moving in the first place. It took a few moment to process what they were seeing, then Elena forgot all protocol and swore softly under her breath. Then slowly, slowly it began to creep back upwards, thousands of tonnes of matter being pushed by some invisible force back up the steep mountain side it had, just moments before, being trying to escape. Within a matter of moments the whole side of the mountain had returned to its point of origin with barely a rock out of place.

With the window open Melinda could now hear the confused shout and yelling that were happing. The people were not in a panic, far from it, but the air was now laced with shock and a fear of the unknown. And one word, one name could now be heard bouncing across the courtyard and from window to window. A name Melinda repeated half in awe, half in anger.

“Daisy.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Not dead! Sorry about the more-than-a-month update ... life n all that. Hope you liked it! x


	12. Chapter 12

 

 

 

Fitz stood stock still, his hands raised and pressed against the sides of his head, mouth agape. Beside him Jemma had the tips of her fingers pressed lightly over her lips as together they stared at the far off mountain side where an incredible event had just unfolded. Once they were able to fully grasp the magnitude of what they had just witnessed, as one their gaze was slowly drawn away from the mountain to the small woman who stood just in front of them, arms outstretched and pointing towards the scene of momentary destruction. Daisy slowly blew out a long sigh, almost sounding like an athlete who’d just exerted themselves, as she lowered her heavy, gauntlet encased arms that gave her slight frame a misshapen, bulky look. She rolled her shoulders for a second as if settling back into her own skin before she threw a cheeky glance over her shoulder at the two nobles who were now stunned into silence.

“So …” Daisy drew out the word. “Is that a big enough demonstration for you?”

Fitz had no words. He simply dropped his hands and let loose an excited burst of laughter as he practically bounced up and down, running over to where Daisy stood. Jemma took a little longer to ground herself again, her hand trembling slightly as she lower it from her thin pressed lips. It was only when she caught Daisy’s eye, and saw the faint pained expression that flitted like a shadow across her otherwise jubilant face, that she managed to force some semblance of a smile, if only to show that while she was stunned by this display, she was not frightened of Daisy herself.

And it was that little effort that made Daisy’s heart swell.

While Fitz and Jemma had both been quite eager to see the extent of Daisy’s abilities, Daisy herself had had some reservations. They were not the first people she’d ever encountered who'd wanted to examine her powers, but in many of those cases there had always been an element of malice, of fear, of the need to either stop her or control her or, even worse, to find a way to bend her will to their own purposes. This had been the general pattern that unfolded time and time again whenever she’d shown her true strength and, though she hated to admit it, Daisy had secretly harboured the fear that Fitz and Jemma would very much follow the same route.

Still, she had promised them that once the whiteout was over she’d be open about her powers and now she feared that if she reneged on that promise that their trust in her would be broken. So it was with heavy heart that and a falsely bright smile that she had joined them in the large, cold room that was located towards the back at the castle and half underground. This was where the two of them as well as a whole host of other researchers conducted their more robust studies, and it was used to house Fitz’s creations and Jemma’s experiments. Daisy had been enthralled with the strange contraptions and devices that lined the walls and piled high on shelves, then felt a little sick as she imagined herself to be one of those specimens that needed to be studied, cut down, sealed, labeled and put away.

But it soon became apparent that her fears were going to be unjustified. Because as soon as the two of them entered the room Daisy was struck by how utterly innocently curious they looked. They didn’t have a set of questions to ask her, like many other scientist had, but simply let her set the pace as she stuttered out a small speech explaining her powers. This in itself was bizarre — Daisy knew her strengths inside and out but when it came to talking about it, she found herself floundering at times. Still, Jemma and Fitz made no mention of this and calmly waited for her to find her own way to them. 

When she started to actually show them what she could do, they were like wide-eyed like children. Daisy was shocked and even a little delighted with how they reacted to her abilities and for the first time in a very long time felt a certain pride in what she could do. She’d started small, making a table shake. They’d murmured appreciatively. She’d then made half full glasses of water sing out. They’d gasped in wonder. She’d showed them how she could manipulate running water into spirals while Jemma had exclaimed, “Oh, that’s _beautiful_!”, before she had then directed her energy to the frost covered window, causing the snow there to fragment into intricate patterns. At that, the two of them actually applauded.

It was this encouragement that led to Daisy showing off. Soon the experimental room was too small and limited, so she had donned her gauntlets and the project was moved outdoors. She had blasted through snowdrifts with ease, had trees gently tremble so any remaining snow on their branches felt softly down and even showed how she could turn frost into hot water within an instant.

And then they wanted to see something bigger.

That’s what had led them to the roof and to that startling display of power. After that Daisy had started to feel a small trembling in her arms that had nothing to do with her ability and everything to do with the fact that she was now exerting herself. Still, it felt good. Like stretching her legs after a long period of disuse and the fact that no matter what she did, no how powerful she revealed herself to be, neither Fitz nor Jemma seemed to be repulsed by her. More incredibly, they were in awe.

“I can’t believe you did that!” Fitz half-shouted, half-laughed as he bounded to her side, but his expression turned on a hairpin to concern as he realised that Daisy was breathing heavily. “Wait. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” puffed Daisy, tossing her head back airily. “It’s just that something that big, well, it can take the wind out of me.”

In an instant Jemma overcame what little wariness still remained to fly to her side, one hand already against Daisy’s cheek in an overly maternal way that both surprised and delighted Daisy. “Oh no, Daisy, you didn’t hurt yourself doing that, did you? You do feel rather warm …”

Here Daisy actually laughed, one hand coming up to cover Jemma’s and lower them down together. “I assure you, I am quite well. It’s easy to quake snow into pretty patterns in the same way that it’s easy to leap up a few stairs. Doing that,” she nodded towards the mountain, “Is more like running from the base of the castle to the roof. Harder, but I’m trained for it.”

“So your powers have never physically harmed you?” asked Jemma nervously.

Here Daisy’s expression shuttered and she dropped Jemma’s hand. “They did, in the early days. Before I understood them. Before these were made to help me control them.” She hefted her gauntlets up and smiled faintly at her old friends. “And sometimes, if I’m not careful … yes, my powers can hurt me. Like a messenger running to collapse.”

“I’d never considered something like that before,” said Fitz, frowning, looking down in thought. “But it makes sense. I myself feel a strain in my eyes if I read too long by candlelight … that’s pushing my body to do something it really shouldn’t. It’s rather similar.” When he looked up, though, he saw an incredulous look on Jemma’s face and the threat of a smile on Daisy’s. “What? It is!”

“I do believe there are slight differences, my dear,” Jemma practically cooed, much to his chagrin. He opened his mouth to reply, but before a word could be breathed out the was a sudden sharp bang that made the three of them jump and turn in unison to face an irate Coulson, who’d just burst onto the rooftop landing.

His jaw was set, eyes ablaze, and he was still dressed in his lighter indoors clothes having forgone the use of a cloak in his haste to reach the roof. His gaze fixed upon Daisy in an instant before he demanded in tones Jemma and Fitz had never heard and Daisy herself heard rarely: “What in the name of the high and the low gods are you _doing_?”

Daisy blinked, rather taken aback at how angry Coulson seemed to be and for a split second she couldn’t answer. A charged silence filled the air. Then everyone on the rooftop was rather surprised when this was broken by none other than Jemma.

She swiftly stepped in front of Daisy, hands clasped demurely as she began with, “Lord Coulson, my husband and I must beg your apologies for this. It was at our insistence that Daisy —”

“Bring down a mountain?” interrupted Coulson.

“Well, to be fair, I put it back up again,” said Daisy flippantly, her humour shielding her growing unease. She was beginning to understand that Coulson’s anger was fuelled by worry, worry that she may have over-exposed herself to an unprepared public. Still, she scrambled for an explanation. “You knew we were going to do this, I informed you last night of our intentions.”

“You said you were going to give some minor demonstrations, not cause panic throughout the castle!” exclaimed Coulson, exasperated, and now she could see the tightness around his eyes, his controlled fear for her. “Did you not for one moment consider how your actions might appear to those who have never seen the like?”

Daisy floundered in her response, unable now to formulate an excuse. That small, sick feeling was back. Daisy had forgotten it, so delighted and flattered by the rapt attention she received from Jemma and Fitz. She had become so caught up with these bizarre and delightful new feelings that she had forgotten exactly how someone like her was truly seen by the general public of Trillieon. As an anomaly. A danger. Inhuman.

However, before she could find the correct words to respond to Coulson’s question, the rooftop once again swung open and the Lady Rodriguez appeared, quickly followed by the queen herself. Daisy’s heart sunk down to her feet.

Unlike Coulson, May and Rodriguez had at least managed to grab their cloaks before venturing into the frosty exterior, and for one insane moment Daisy took the time to admire how the dyed red furred lining lining of her hood dramatically contrasted with the raven blackness of May’s hair. Then the queen’s flint-like eyes locked onto hers and she felt her mouth go dry.

“Explain.” It was a simple, quiet word that nonetheless reverberated across the rooftop.

Once again, to everyone’s (except, seemingly, May’s) surprised, Jemma placed herself between Daisy and her questioner. “Majesty, it was out fault that —”

“Not you.” May cut her off with the efficiency of a hot blade through ice, her eyes never leaving Daisy’s. “Her.”

A cascade of excuses and explanations tumbled through her mind, none of them truthfully explaining the show of force she just demonstrated. And that was the thing; Daisy knew the truth behind her actions, yet it was so small and petty a thing as to make her ashamed of it. But as she was caught in the queen’s cold glare she honestly felt that this paltry thing, all she could offer, would be the only thing the queen would accept from her. So, swallowing against a too tight throat, she gave it. “I got carried away.”

Rodriguez’s eyebrows shot up. On the edge of her vision she saw Fitz wince and close his eyes. while Coulson and Jemma remained as still as statues, awaiting May’s response.

For her part, May’s expression remained unchanged, and after a few agonising moments of silence she slowly repeated those words back to Daisy. “You got ‘carried away’?”

“Yes.” Daisy managed to keep her tone just on the right side of civil, but it was an effort. _Just do it,_ she thought desperately, unable to bare the suspense. _Yell at me, tell me I’m a fool, a danger, a menace. Just get it over with. It’s nothing I haven’t been dealt before._

May nodded almost imperceptibly as Daisy braced herself.

“Yes, quite. I understand.”

Daisy felt a tremor run through her that had absolutely nothing to do with her abilities. She glanced quickly around at the rest of the group, at Jemma and Fitz who seemed equally blind-sighted then at Rodriguez who strangely enough seemed to be smothering a look of amusement. The people she couldn’t get a read on was May herself, which was not unusual, and Coulson. He hadn’t said a word since May had appeared and was now closely watching the situation with a carefully neutral expression. In her shock her mouth ran quickly in front of her brain as she stuttered out, “ _What_? Uh … I mean … you _do_?”

“Of course,” said May, pulling slightly at her cloak to arrange it more evenly against her shoulders. “I don’t know much about your powers, but I do know that you only seem to use them when necessary; that they are a tool, not a toy. But like with any skill I’m sure that there must be some fine delight in being able to demonstrate the true extent of your prowess. Particularly with a captivated audience.” And here May finally shifted her poignant gaze from Daisy to Jemma and Fitz who were both humble enough to look a little sheepish at their part in this affair. “So yes, I understand, _but_ —” Daisy, who had started to relax a little, suddenly tensed up again at this, “But that doesn’t mean to say the entirety of Trillieon will.”

It was said without malice or reproach, just a simple fact, yet suddenly Daisy was right back at where she’d been before. Painfully aware of how foreign she really was. “I wasn’t trying to frighten anyone,” she said in a painfully small voice.

“I know,” said May, genuinely sympathetic. “And we’ll see to it that everyone is made aware of that, too.”

“We will?” Everyone’s heads turned as Coulson spoke for the first time. “How? Is there a town cryer, or maybe we’ll post some broadsheets about?”

Though this was all delivered in Coulson’s usual dry manner, Daisy felt as though there was something sharper and more nuanced just beneath the surface. May’s only reaction was a slight quirk of her brow. “We shall do it by addressing the people directly. Face to face.”

Whatever Coulson was expecting, it wasn’t that. “Going into the town? Isn’t that a little … informal?”

“Perhaps for the larger domains, but not so much here. I quite often go into the town, it shan’t surprise or disturb the people there. Besides, it has been brought to my attention that rumours of my new foreign consort and his Inhuman ward have been the main theme of most gossip meets this past whiteout.” May nodded towards Rodriguez. “My stewardess suggested this as a way of calming any rattled nerves.”

Daisy blinked and stared at the word ‘rattled’, wondering briefly if the cool queen had somehow _punned_ her, before quickly dismissing the very notion. May couldn’t shock her _that_ much.

“It makes sense,” added the Lady Rodriguez. “And introducing yourself and Daisy to the people in a more casual setting before the banquet should go a long way to dispelling any rumours that have already taken root.”

“Yes, I agree,” nodded Jemma, clearing warming to the idea. “Meeting the people would go a long way to them accepting you, for while the mythos of the two of you is quite impressive I’ve discovered from personal experience that you’re not all that strange or intimidating.”

While she didn’t take offence Daisy couldn’t help replying with a high pitched, “Thank you?”, which made Jemma blush.

Coulson, however, didn’t seem completely convinced, though for some reason the usually wordy lord was finding trouble in expressing himself. “I believe — I don’t —” He paused, shook his head, then as he felt the pressure of the five sets of eyes fixed on him he finally gritted out, “I don’t know how act in such a situation. Publicly meeting civilians? I must admit, I prefer working from the shadows.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate, because a consort must live squarely in the light, regardless of what they may prefer,” said May, almost provocatively.

Daisy’s eyes darted between the two, and she wasn’t the only one. It seemed that weeks of a  stale, tepid relationship was grating on both of them. She and Jemma covertly shared a looked, which Rodriguez neatly observed. Fitz just looked as though he wanted to go back to when Daisy was simply making things shake.

After a few more painful moments Coulson ducked his chin briefly before asking, with exceeding politeness, “As you wish. When shall we depart?”

May answered, “Within the hour. That will give Rodriguez time to send some runners down to announce our arrival, and ourselves time to dress accordingly. Warmly.” She added, as Coulson and Daisy both exchanged confused looks. “We shall see you then.”

Then the queen turned smoothly on the spot and left the rooftop, Rodriguez following close behind,  throwing a smile back over her shoulder once before they disappeared back into the castle’s warmth.

Jemma let loose a long sigh that Daisy didn’t even realise she’d been holding in. “Well … all things considered … perhaps we should’ve just stuck to the small demonstrations?”

A brittle burst of laugher escaped Daisy before she knew it, laughter that Jemma and Fitz soon joined as the three of them grades hands and gave in to a somewhat hysterical release of tension, all as her mind reeled with what had just happened. Sure, May hadn’t kicked her out of the domain but at the same time a meeting with a whole lot of fearful, sheltered villagers wasn’t exactly her idea of a pleasant afternoon. Still, the quiet confidence that May had in her own people was clear to see, and that had gone a long was to soothing Daisy’s own nerves on the subject. Who knew? Her entire experience of Trillieon seemed to be following a pattern where her worst fears were usually, thankfully, unjustified. Perhaps this may prove the same.

She was so caught up in her own relief that she almost didn’t see Coulson slipped away from them. Almost. With one final squeeze of Fitz’s hand she quickly chased after him, catching him just at the base of the stairs. She grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him around to face her, and from his expression it was clear that while he didn’t want to have whatever conversation this was, he was resigned to it.

“Okay, what is going on, and don’t say nothing,” she spoke quickly as he opened his mouth to say just that, “Because it isn’t nothing. People are noticing how odd you and May are acting around each other and because _you_ keep pretending that nothing’s off they all keep coming to _me_ as if I have any clue. So please, give me something, anything, as to why the two of you seem to have fallen out.” She sighed in frustration and threw up her hands. “You … you and May disagree on the Watchman’s Theory? Does she like the Southern Star Sagas? Does she put her feet up on the table when the two of you are in private? What is it?”

Halfway through Daisy’s rant Coulson had started shaking his head and then, to her bewilderment, had actually begun to smile. A small, ghostly thing, but as smile nonetheless.

“Daisy,” he said, quietly, calmly. “It’s none of that. May is lovely, very much so but I …” he paused and sighed, smile fading. “After my meeting with Gonzales I came to realise that … I don’t want to give too much of myself to a performance.”

Daisy frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means … I know already that May and I may some day come to care for each other … very much.” He then pressed his lips together and shrugged. “But it won’t be love. It will never be that.”

It was said without any self pity of remorse, but Daisy still felt a drop a sadness fall onto her heart. “Well, you don’t know that …”

“Yes, I do.” He dropped his hands from her shoulders. “She loves her people, her domain, and her true husband. I don’t wish to take any of that from her. Never. But I also don’t …” He broke off, looking away, but Daisy understood.

“You don’t think you’ll be able to remain as platonic,” she breathed out. “But sir, if you’ll allow me …if you’re already acting this way, that may be a battle long lost.”

Coulson said nothing to that, but Daisy could tell that this was something he’d already been considering. So this whole time his aloofness, his lukewarm attentions had simply been him attempting to build walls, emotional walls. Something Daisy knew for a fact that he was terrible at.

Suddenly Coulson cleared his throat, breaking the mood and signalling an end to the conversation, before he quickly glanced around, checking that there were no wandering ears.

“But enough on that. Tell me … how are your studies of Providence coming along?”

 

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

 

 

 

Coulson had just finished lacing up his heavy, fur-lined boots as he heard a knock at his chambers door. “Come in!” he called, only half paying attention as he stood up and rocked his feet back and forth a few times in an attempt to accustom them to their strange, new, weighty homes.

Young Fitz stuck his head around the door. “Just checking to see if you’re ready, sir.”

“Yes, almost,” answered Coulson, still frowning at his feet.

Fitz followed his gaze and, with the tone of one who was not sure of what else to say, simply asked; “New boots?”

“New boots.” nodded Coulson, still not sure how he felt about them, although it wasn’t the way they fit that bothered him. The boots, along with the rest of the clothes he now wore, had been subtly introduced to his wardrobe a few days after his arrival; something which the Head of the House Mackenzie later took credit for. Or rather, at the beginning, the blame. Coulson was not at all used to other people rummaging around in his possessions and while he knew logically that there had been no malicious intent the faint feeling of a violation of privacy remained, only fading after discovering that Daisy had also been given a couture update. Unlike him, she’d been delighted at the new array of outfits that had suddenly appeared and had even personally sought out Mackenzie to thank him, dragging Coulson along with her. It was only then that Coulson had realised how ungrateful and selfish he would appear if he were to air his frustrations. He supposed that’s just how it was now, that his every little need would be met before he even knew he had a need. Daisy might find this all wonderfully liberating but for a man who had been stubbornly independent his whole life, the whole thing went painfully against the grain.

Though he had to admit, he was rather impressed and bewildered as to how they managed to tailor everything to _exactly_ his size without ever bringing him in for a fitting. It made him wonder if they were measuring him in his sleep.

And, if he was going to be really honest … it wasn’t really the shoes that had him in a foul mood.

Coulson finally looked up, then frowned once again at the strange sight Fitz presented. “I did say ‘come in’, you know,” he said, a ghost of a smile now present. “You don’t need to hang about the doorframe like some disembodied head.”

Fitz started, then shrugged sheepishly as he stood to his full height and properly entered the room. “Yes. Sorry.”

“No need to apologise,” he said as he stood and walked over to his desk, both satisfied and irked at how comfortable the boots were. “In fact, I wouldn’t mind your opinion on something.” Coulson quickly retrieved a small, ornate box that had been hiding under some loose sheets and from the look on Fitz’s face, he recognised it instantly.

“Oh …”

“Indeed,” nodded Coulson to this non-response as he opened the box to reveal a heavy signet ring. It was thick, silver, and had the crest of the royal house of Trillieon delicately etched onto a raised surface. Coulson plucked it out of the box and let it sit on his palm as he tested the weight of it, and as the sunlight glinted off polished sides it suddenly struck him that it was weighed down with so much more than just metal. “Lady Rodriguez presented this to me a few days after I arrived, but I haven’t had a reason to wear it.” Here, he looked Fitz in the eye. “What do you think?”

Fitz pressed his lips together and bunched up his shoulders as if in the beginning of a shrug that would never reach completion. “I … well … it is the consort’s ring, and you are the consort, so …”

“Yes, legally this is mine,” the words felt just as heavy as the ring, “And I can wear it to public events but … should I?” Something about wearing the heraldry of a domain amongst the very people who might not ever accept him as one of their own felt disingenuous and faintly dangerous, but Coulson wanted another’s view on the subject.

Fitz pulled a face and Coulson knew his answer before he gave it. “I probably wouldn’t, not for this first meeting anyway. Might seem a bit …”

“Presumptuous?” supplied Coulson, as he quickly dumped the ring back into its container and returned it to his desk, hiding exactly how relieved he was that Fitz agreed.

“Yes, a little.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Are you ready now?”

“No,” said Coulson flatly as he swung his new, thick cloak over his shoulders. “But lead on.”

Fitz nodded and swung the door open for them to leave, but at the last moment he suddenly extended an arm to grab at Coulson’s elbow. “For what it’s worth, I know somewhat of how you’re feeling.”

Coulson felt his eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, you do?”

“I said ‘somewhat’.” Fitz dropped his hand and folded his arms close to his body in a defensive gesture. Coulson realised that whatever he was about to say was difficult for him. “I don’t know if you’ve picked up on it, but I’m not from around here. And my marriage to Jemma, while not as … unexpected … as yours, did raise some eyebrows. As it were.”

“Really? But I thought you were of the blood?”

Fitz winced. “Barely. And only on my father’s side, which doesn’t mean much. Socially speaking, Jemma and I are on very different levels and people definitely noticed. And always felt the need to talk about it. In the early days whenever we moved about Moruya or even the castle, I always felt people’s eyes on us, waiting for … I don’t know. For me to slip up? For Jemma to realise her mistake? Being constantly judged for something that should be purely your own business is …” Instead of finishing his sentence he merely gave a sharp shrug and blew out a breath past his teeth, shaking his head in disgust of his past encounters.

 _So, he really does know something of it,_ thought Coulson. “What would you suggest I do?”

“Don’t try to be what you think they want you to be,” said Fitz instantly. “That’s it.”

“What, just be myself?” He grimaced at the thought.

“Well, yes and no. Don’t try to hide who you are at heart, but there’s no need to show everyone everything. Be little less of yourself. Until they’re ready for more.”

“And when will that be?”

Once again Fitz simply shrugged sadly, sympathetically, and finally stepped out of the way and allowed Coulson to exit.

 _Wonderful_ , thought Coulson, thumping down the passageway in his new boots. His damned new boots. Still … they were comfortable, solid, nicely made … by the time they reached the end  of the passageway his anger had burnt out. Yes, things might be strange and jarring, but Coulson couldn’t fault the people around him who all seemed to be so genuine. So nice and _genuine_.

 _Be little less of yourself. Until they’re ready for more._ Gods. Those words would prove to be frighteningly true in later days. He wondered if Fitz would remember them.

At the thought, Coulson swiftly turned around to grasp at Fitz’s shoulder, squeezing it slightly. “Thank you. For understanding.”

Fitz simply smiled. “Anytime.”

 

* * *

 

May had only been in the courtyard for mere minutes before Coulson and Fitz joined them. She had been watching idly as the Queens Guard readied the carriage, standing alongside Elena, Jemma and one very nervous looking Daisy who was keeping just as silent as herself while Elena and Jemma chatted quietly. As Coulson came into view May couldn’t help eyeing him over. Just once. For practicalities sake.

He was finally wearing his new clothes, something he’d been stubbornly refusing to do throughout the whiteout though she’d never made mention of it. It seemed, however, that the frigid outdoor weather had at last made him retire his well worn but now utterly unsuitable thin northern wear. He looked … very much the part of the consort. Surprisingly, the heavy Trillieon wear and rich fabrics suited him and he actually looked … she ran her eyes along his frame once more. Analytically. Of course. Yes. She could admit that, from a purely logical standpoint, he looked rather … good.

As they neared the party of women Fitz pealed off to place himself at his customary position by Jemma’s side, while Coulson nodded in a calm, deferential manner that could not mask how he was nervously playing with his gloves. That movement drew her gaze to his bare hands and in a moment her appreciation for his appearance faded.

“I hope you weren’t waiting for us,” said Coulson.

“Not at all,” answered May, somewhat distracted. He wasn’t wearing the signet ring of the consort. She thought he would’ve. She had braced herself for the sight of it, as the last time she’d seen it was when it had been on Andrew’s hand but now there seemed to be no need for concern. Or perhaps need for a different kind of concern. Was this his way of telling her that, when it came to the people, he didn’t wish to fully embrace his duties?

Coulson, noticing her changing mood, moved closer and asked in a lowered voice, “Is there something the matter?” He glanced down at his attire. “I thought this would be suitable, but if it’s a bit too much then I can easily go back and change.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” May was already shaking her head before he finished his sentence. “It’s just … this is our first public presentation, however informal.”

“Yes?” Coulson stared, clearly not understanding where she was coming from and she sighed as she realised that she’d have to spell it out. Awkward, but she supposed it was better that this faux par came from ignorance rather than intention. If he thought his incredibly simply clothing was too much it would stand to reason that he might be off put by the ring.

“You should be wearing the signet ring of the consort,” she said, speaking quietly and leaning in closer so that no one else would hear. She extended her left hand to show him how her own signet ring was now resting on her smallest finger, noting how his face blanched when he saw. “While it is unlikely to happen today, we might sometimes be asked to sign off on various things when we visit Moruya. It’s always better to be prepared.”

Coulson closed his eyes briefly, jaw clenched. “I didn’t want to presume.”

“I understand, but it isn’t presumptuous, it’s your duty.” She softened her words with a small smile before she made to climb into the carriage, closely followed by Jemma, then Daisy.

She missed how Fitz shot a deeply apologetic look towards Coulson, then mouthed the word _‘sorry’_.

The road from the castle to Moruya was already cleared and open, but still icy enough to keep the coach and horses at a slower than normal pace. This time Coulson did ride up the front, as consort, while Morse and Hunter rode between him and the carriage that brought up the rear. There was no guard at the back. This was to be as small and casual as possible, explanations and introductions before the grand banquet in later weeks. May understood that compared to other domains this was not thing usual thing to do and quite frankly found that absurd. In her youth she had been shocked to discover that in the greater domains that some royals and members of the blood were so obsessed with developing a aura of mystery and awe around their very names that they almost never presented themselves to the public. Personally, she found that unbelievably pretentious. Citizens were not the mindless drones those royals seemed to think they were. They would not always be blindly loyal to a mere idea. It had been drummed into May from the beginning of her life that she was their servant, and it was never the other way around.

Inside the coach May sat on one side while Daisy and Jemma shared the seat on the other. It wouldn’t be a long journey down into Moruya and while there wasn’t an obvious tension between the three women, May couldn’t help but notice that Daisy was definitely on edge. The young woman was sitting very still, hands clenched, eyes fixed on the passing view outside her window. A few minutes into the journey Jemma had silently reached out and laid one small, pale hand against her arm to sooth her. A moment later, Daisy covered that hand with her own, her gaze never breaking from the scenery outside. May smiled at that small exchange, pleased and hearted that the two young ladies were now so clearly intimate with each other. A massive change for both of them in a few short weeks.

“We shouldn’t be there too long,” said May, breaking the calm quiet and drawing their attention. “Maybe just a little over an hour, then back to the castle for a late lunch. Just enough time for some introductions, and for us to pull out the weeds of gossip before they flourish.” When she noticed how Daisy squirmed in her seat she directed all her attention to her. “You will be fine.”

“I know,” she said reflexively, though she didn’t seem to have much confidence in her words. “It’s just, I’ve been here before. So many times. All … paraded around and presented to people who either want you to preform tricks or to just be gone.”

“Well, we’ll change their minds on the latter and as for the former … they all saw a pretty good trick this morning,” smiled May, but it didn’t have the desired effect. Daisy’s face fell further.

“I wish I’d never done that. It was so stupid.”

“A little reckless, maybe, but not stupid.” May sighed and turned her own gaze to the window. “And I wasn’t lying when I said I knew why you did it. Why you got … carried away. Jemma might not have told you, but I’m quite the expert when it comes to combat.”

May had to give it to her, Daisy hid her incredulous reaction to that well. Not well enough to smother her smirk, though. “What? Really?”

May answered that smirk with one of her own while Jemma, delighted, watched the whole thing with one of her own tiny grins. “Oh yes. I know it doesn’t look it — I’m a tiny woman who’s been pampered and sheltered almost every day of my life, I know — but never let looks deceive you. You’re aware of my personal Guard, correct?” Daisy nodded. “Well, to gain that position each and every member had to be pitted against myself.”

“What, they had to beat you to get in the Guard?” asked Daisy, shocked.

May gave a small titter of laughter. “Oh, goodness, no. They just had to hold their own for as long as they could. No member of the Guard has ever bested me.”

She could see that Daisy almost didn’t believe her as she quickly glanced at Jemma for confirmation. Jemma simply nodded, enjoying watching the proceedings.

“It’s no exaggeration to say that I am very good.” Here May’s smile faded. “But I almost never get the chance to show people that and many, like yourself, simply do not believe it. It is, overall, such a minor frustration that I almost never notice it, but at times it still does rub. Not as much as it used to, though. Because once, just once … I also got carried away.” She sighed and her smiled faded before she continued. “Years ago, before my first marriage, I was touring the eastern boarders when we were attacked by bandits. It was myself, some of the regional nobles, and a only a few Guards who were severely outnumbers and soon overwhelmed. It was a well planned attack on the bandit’s part and very sloppy organisation on our own. Soon, it became apparent that I could not hide behind their shields any longer, and I attacked.” Here, she pulled her gaze away from the window and locked it on Daisy. “And I got carried away.”

In a small voice Daisy asked, “How many?”

“All of them,” said May, quickly, emotionlessly. “They were no match for me and, in that moment, it felt so _right_ to be doing what I am so _good_ at. But it was … unnecessary. It was needlessly brutal.” And now she couldn’t even maintain eye-contact with them. “It was the closest I came to bloodlust. So yes, Daisy, I do understand getting carried away. But please, please believe me when I say that I would emphatically encourage you _not_ to do that.” May pushed her shoulders back, raised her chin and enveloped herself in that cool and serene persona of the queen. Calm. Confident. And in control. “What you did was incredible, but not terrible. The point behind this visit is to reassure the people that they will never see something terrible come from you.”

Daisy nodded in understanding before steeling herself, her face now mostly blank except for just a hint of defensiveness. May let the comfortable silence return to the carriage as they were gently jostled back and forth, turning her attention back towards the window as she marvelled, not for the first time, how someone so wholly different from herself could be in many way so very similar.

She hoped dearly that her people would be able to would be able to see and accept this too.

 

* * *

 

It was slow but steady going towards the village. The pure blue skies of the morning were now dotted with light, fluffy clouds that, unlike their cousins of the previous weeks, held no danger. All around them, on every tree branch, every stone wall, as far as the eye could see, fresh white snow piled high. In the midday sun it sparkled and turned watery, and every now and then Coulson could hear the faint little cracks as it melted and collapsed in on itself, compacting harder towards the ground to once again become icy.

Coulson led the tiny procession into Moruya, following the road that he’d only once previously travelled before when he and Daisy had first arrived at the castle. Only a few weeks ago, yet already it felt like much, much longer. Coulson thought back briefly to the man who had ridden into Moruya as he compared that image to who he was now. That previous man had been curious, cautious, but ultimately confident in what his part in this narrative was going to be. He had a mission, an unusual one to be sure but he was nothing if not adaptable and he would see it through.

He tighten his grip on the reins. It was a wonder and a worry that so much had changed within him in such a short time. Personally, he blamed the whiteout, and how much time it had given him to think.

The past weeks stuck inside Moruya castle had served to prove three deeply uncomfortable facts for him. Firstly, Daisy had adapted to this new life with remarkable speed and grace, something he himself had thus far failed to do. He didn’t begrudge her this at all and was beyond pleased that she finally had some friends her own age, yet her social success had unfortunately only served to highlight his own shortcomings. He had been so ready to help and defend her, a young Inhuman in a nation known for its hostility towards her kind, but in the end she didn’t need him and while he was immensely grateful for this it also left him at somewhat of a loose end. And this fed into the insecurities of his second revelation; that as much as people tried to say otherwise, his military skills and knowledge were simply not wanted here.

He’d had an inkling of this well before his meeting with Gonzales, and in the weeks since these feelings had only been further confirmed. While Morse had been polite and forthcoming enough with her explanations it was clear that any suggestions on his part were not going to be asked for or welcomed. For someone with as much experience as himself and who had come to this domain with the explicit goal of securing their defences it was a frustration that could not be soothed.

And lastly … Melinda.

He was not sure when it happened. Perhaps it was how her face lit up when she spoke of her country and people, or when she had presented him with with a large, leather bound volume containing all the protocol relating to Trillieon etiquette with a sly smile and the suggestion that he should fine a way to keep it with him at all times to avoid further missteps. Maybe it had happened as he watched her study the Maces and Talons board, utterly still in concentration as the firelight danced over her features. The way she wore her hair down in informal situations, or how she adored obscure pieces of art, or that small tinkling laughter that came out of her like a breath. He didn’t know at what moment it happened. All he knew was at some point in these last weeks his respect and admiration for the queen had shifted and evolved into something else.

But he knew when he had decided to pull away from that.

As much as it pained him to admit it, Gonzales was correct in that the whole marriage was an act of coercion. Everyone knew this, even Melinda. But every time Coulson thought back to that conversation with the Head Of The Guard he had a horrible suspicion that Gonzales knew, or at least suspected, that there was an even darker, hidden side to this ‘marriage of connivence’ thant no one beyond himself and King Fury knew of.

 

_The camp had been buzzing with the news that the Queen of Trilleion had arrived just that morning, seeking a new treaty. While the common solider might be surprised at the usually insular monarch leaving her domain, Coulson had long ago seen this as a possibility. The Armies of Hydra amassing coupled with the emergence of the new race of Inhumans was enough to worry the great domains, let alone the latter. But it was the unreachable yet highly strategically domain of Trilleion that caught his interest more than any others. Coulson was a man of planning and the moment he saw an opening in the usually tall defensive walls of Trillieon, he saw an opportunity. And so, it seemed, had Fury._

_However, not even Coulson was prepared for exactly what kind of opportunity Fury saw._

_“So all we need to do is convince a queen of the blood, with centuries of noble names behind her, that her best course of action is marrying me.” Coulson had scoffed at this and taken a swift swig from his flask, the hot liquid with just a hint of liquor warming him from the inside out. “Should be easy. I’m obviously quite a catch.”_

_“We’re going to make it seem like her only choice,” Fury had answered. “There’s no way we’re letting a chance to infiltrate Trillieon go by.”_

_The two of them had been standing just outside Fury’s tent, which had sat on a low rise that afforded them a perfect view of the encampment. The morning’s watery sunlight held no warmth and Coulson could see his breath hanging in the air in front of him. He sniffed and shoved his flask back into a deep pocket before turning back to Fury._

_“Are you certain this level of infiltration is even necessary?” he asked. “The fact that she has even left her domain — I believe this is a first for her — show’s that they’re definitely frightened enough to agree to whatever we ask for. Their schematics, boundary defences, lore. They should give us whatever we demand without the need for a marriage contract.”_

_“Yes, I’m sure they would,” nodded Fury, his face like stone. “And then they would crawl back into their frozen little shell and once again cut all contact. We would have no way of monitoring their movements and personally, no matter how impressive it is that Queen May had finally decided to come out and play with the big kids, I don’t trust her or her advisors to accurately share any information they might come across. Not with their history. You and I both know there’s something off about Trillieon. Their boast about being the last corner of the globe without Inhumans? That’s not possible, not after what we saw at the Battle for Afterlife, and of course there are all those rumours about Providence.” Fury turned to looked over the encampment, deep in thought. “They’re hiding something and we need to dig out exactly what that is.”_

_Coulson felt like every muscle in his body was being wound too tight, yet at the same time the heavy, sad weight of acceptance began to settle on his shoulders. “I understand. You know I do. But … and I have to ask this … why me?”_

_It was at this point that a flicked of genuine emotion passed over Fury’s face. “I know that this level of subterfuge is not your style, Coulson, but the reason it has to be you is quite simply because you’re my good eye. I will not — I can not entrust this mission to anyone else.” He paused as a thought struck him. “Except, perhaps, your protege. Not even I am fool enough to try and separate you two, but even Daisy must not know the full extent of our intentions.”_

_“So this marriage on the surface will be to secure Trillieon’s defences, but in reality it will place me right inside the castle.” He folded his arm across his chest, a nervous tick of his that he couldn’t be bothered fighting in this situation. “But doesn’t a marriage seem a little too binding? I understand that this whole war could take years, but what about when its done? Do I just … leave?”_

_“Yes,” said Fury flatly, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s another reason why you have to be the one to enter into this contract. You bring nothing to the table.” Coulson rolled his eyes but could say nothing in defence of that. “So therefore, if and when our true intentions are revealed, you won’t be taking anything away from Trillieon either. They might cried and complain about hurt pride but they can’t say that we tried to annex them or steal their lands. This whole situation will be incredibly messy if it ever comes to light. This is the cleanest way of handling it.”_

_Very softly, Coulson finally asked what had really been on his mind this whole conversation. “And what of the queen herself?”_

_Fury fixed his single fiery eye on him. “Like I said, you might hurt her pride in all this but nothing more. There are plenty of marriages through the globe that are little more than defence contracts and she’s sure to understand that. You are not in any way obliged to act the part of the husband to her and if you remember to play your part correctly, she should have no desire to be your wife.”_

_Coulson felt like the metaphorical walls were closing in on him and had been the whole conversation. He knew from beginning that he was going to do this, however distasteful it was to him. He would do anything for Fury and the Shield, he just needed the extra convincing that Fury quite gladly provided. Marriage. The one thing he’d been avoiding most of his life. And one built on a very black lie._

_Still. It wasn’t as though he were going to help invade Trillieon. Quite the opposite, in fact. And if they weren’t such insular, deceptive people then there wouldn’t be a need for this in the first place._

_And the queen herself. Coulson hadn’t felt the need to tell Fury of their youthful encounter with one another. It hadn’t seemed relative. But there almost seemed to be something of a warning reaching out to him from the past. She had quite easily fooled him back then and here he was now, many years later, attempting to fool her and there seemed to be some small voice within him that was cautioning against that very act._

 

Coulson blinked as he brought himself back to the present. They had finally entered Moruya, a small collection of squat, solid little stone buildings that all had at least a foot of snow clinging to their sides. There were already some curious villagers wandering the streets, staring openly at him and trying to catch a glimpse of those travelling in the carriage.

And now he was to be paraded around, smiling and acting the part of the consort. And the other side of it. Acting as the cool, political husband who’d only duty was to serve his new queen.

The falsehood made him feel like the lowest of creatures.

Still, he would endure. He pushed all those memories down deep within him, plastered a small smile on his face, and graciously extended a hand to help his queen down out of the carriage.

 

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

 

 

 

The gentle swaying of the carriage slowly came to a halt, announcing their arrival in Moruya. May drew in a deep breath to steady herself as she straightened her already perfectly straight cloak. Years of public service could not completely erode the queasy sense of over-exposure that enveloped her every time she was just about to enter into meetings like this and although May could now easily control and almost ignore those feelings, she could never deny their presence. Jemma looked as serene as ever, having always been more assured in these situations than anyone had really expected her to be, but Daisy now looked slightly ill. As she caught her eye, May smiled sympathetically.

“Ready?”

“No.” Daisy threw back her shoulders and steeled herself, much in the same manner May just did. “Lets do this.”

The latch on the carriage door clicked as it swung open and there Coulson was already waiting,  smiling, gloved hand outstretched. May answered with a demure smile of her own that was not so much for him as it was for the gathering townsfolk who had come to witness the arrival of their queen as she graciously slipped her hand into his own and allowed him to assist her out of the carriage. They were standing just in front of the Town Hall, an impressive stone structure that was by far the largest in the village. Like the others it was a squat, grey establishment that was nevertheless covered in intricate patterns that had been carved into the stone. These patterns now all held a least a little bit of snow which had served to transform the building into something that almost resembled a highly decorated cake.

She could feel the press of curious eyes all about them, the small families huddled together, the shopkeepers poking their heads out of their establishments to see what all the fuss was about, the older citizens gossiping as they stared, heads bent close together. May herself didn’t see the moment Daisy exited the carriage, but she couldn’t have missed the reaction to it. The townsfolk almost as a whole drew back as if they had rehearsed it and the effect would have been comical if she didn’t feel so keenly for Daisy’s part in this situation. A small child, brave and ignorant, began to point excitedly at the Inhuman before her mother slapped her hand down.

Thankfully, it was at that moment a welcome, familiar face appeared in the crowd, walking towards their party with even, confident strides. May’s small smile bloomed into a genuine grin as she released Coulson’s hand and made to meet him halfway, both her hands already outstretched to take his in greeting. “Mayor Tripplet! As always, a delight.”

“Your Majesty,” grinned the mayor as he grasped both her hands warmly before bowing over them. “As always, an honour.”

“Although I fear I must apologise for the unexpected nature of our arrival,” said May as Tripplet straightened again, though the mayor simply sniffed and shrugged, his smile turning somewhat sly.

“Not wholly unexpected, your majesty,” he said in a knowing tone before he gave a meaningful glance towards the mountain where the miracle landslide had occurred earlier that morning. “I had a small, sneaking feeling that I might be seeing someone from the castle before the sun set today.”

“Even the queen and her consort?”

“Well, one must be prepared for all manner of guests, naturally.” Here, Tripplet turned his attention towards Coulson for the first time, bowing in a neat and curt fashion. “Lord Coulson, Consort of the Queen. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

Coulson smiled thinly. “I’m sure you’ve heard a lot about me.”

May flashed Coulson a sharp look but Tripplet’s own smile merely widened. “I most certainly have, sir, and I can assure you that only the good things reached my ears.” He then turned towards the two women who still standing rather close to the carriage, Daisy all but latched onto Jemma’s arm. “My dear Lady Simmons, a pleasure to see you. And this must be …?”

Daisy struck out her hand, awkwardly but with purpose. “Daisy Johnson. And yes, I’m _that_ Inhuman.”

May felt the atmosphere in the village change in an instant and one quick glance at Coulson showed that he felt it too. It was as though the entire population had taken a collective breath and were now holding it, waiting for Tripplet’s response. But her mayor didn’t fail her — she never expected him to — as he smoothly took her hand in one of his own as if this was just another subject and not someone who could destroy him with said hand, and swiftly bowed over it.

“Welcome to Moruya, Lady Johnson,” he smiled, his voice as warm as sweetened milk, and then to the surprise of all around he placed a brief kiss to her knuckles before straightening again. “I have heard tell of your magic, but for some reason no-one saw fit to enlighten me on what a fine example of womanhood you are.” For a split second Daisy’s eyes bulged out of her head before she burst out laughing, a hand flying upward to cover her mouth, her eyes dancing as she stared at him as if she couldn’t believe what had just happened. Jemma grinned and rolled her eyes while Tripplet took this all in stride, now playful. “By the gods. What a striking combination. Powerful and beautiful!”

“And too smart to fall for that,” grinned Daisy, lowering her hand. “Do you greet all newcomers like that?”

“I can confirm he does not,” piped up Coulson, his customary tired little smile now invigorated.

“And it’s just ‘Daisy Johnson’,” she clarified. “No title. I’m not a lady.”

Tripplet made a slightly surprised face, but didn’t question this. “Very well, Daisy Johnson.”

“Just ‘Daisy’.”

“Yes, Just Daisy.”

“Oh gods!” exclaimed Jemma as Daisy burst into another fit of laughter that was probably still fuelled by her previous nervousness. The good thing was that May could see that this exchange was affecting all around them. Fear and caution were slowly being transformed into timid curiosity and there were even some who were smothering their own smiles. May grinned to herself. Mayor Tripplet knew how people worked almost to an unnerving degree, but he also knew how to calm and excite a crowd in equal measure. This might be in part performative but it was working to turn the borderline hostile mob into something more gentle. However Jemma, always one for protocol, continued with, “Trip, leave her alone!”

“No, no, it’s fine,” wheezed Daisy. “In fact, it’s more than fine.” She sobered up for a moment as she finally took in all of Tripplet’s features, looking seriously into his eyes. “It’s nice to meet someone who doesn’t fear me.”

At this all of Tripplet’s playful energy became kind. “I see no reason for fear.”

“And we intend to keep things that way,” said May, drawing attention back to herself. As delightful as this little interaction was, they still had a task at hand to complete. “Mayor Tripplet, is it possible that the Stage is available?”

Tripplet’s face fell. “Unfortunately we haven’t had time to scrap the ice off. It might not be safe.”

Coulson frowned. “Stage?”

“Just here, in front of the Town Hall.” Tripplet moved past them to indicate to where a large, elevated stone slab would usually be found just at the base of the stairs that lead up into the Hall. May could see that the weeks of nonstop snow had compacted heavily against the steps to turn into a thick icy sheet that was all but impervious to any axe or hammer that came down upon it. “We would usually use this location as a place to make announcements and the such, but …”

“I can remove it.” All eyes turned to Daisy who now appeared half nervous, half confident. “I can clear it off.”

Tripplet raised an eyebrow. “Truly? Do you … shake it off?”

She smiled. “In a sense, yes. I can vibrate the ice to the point where it breaks apart at its smallest levels and turns back into water. That is, if you’ll allow me?”

A quick round of glances, Daisy to Tripplet, Tripplet to May and May back to Daisy was ended by both the queen and the mayor nodding in agreement.

“Very well,” said May, stepping back towards Coulson and allowing Daisy the room she needed to work in. She jumped slightly as she felt Coulson grasp at her elbow and pull her closer to murmur in her ear.

“Are you sure about this demonstration? So soon?”

“Better to satisfy curiosity sooner than later, in my experience,” she answered just as low, as she watched while Daisy knelt next to the frozen platform and extend her hands so they were only a few inches above it. All about her May could see the villagers closing in, still a little frightened but now overcome with intrigue at what they might next witness. What followed was a mundane miracle; for a moment the ice shimmered like the surface of a lake in a storm before it melted and fell away in a small _whoosh_ , leaving the stone surface wet but ice free. A gasp went up from the crowd and then, to everyone’s surprise, a small delighted whoop and a single pair of hands clapping enthusiastically drew all eyes towards the same small girl who had pointed at Daisy earlier. Daisy straightened and looked over at the child, bemused, before awkwardly raising a hand and waving back. To May’s immense relief, a small tittering of laughter rose up from the crowd at this exchange.

“Good start,” muttered Tripplet as he passed by her and stepped up onto the Stage, a hush falling over the crowd as they waited for him to speak. “People of Moruya … lets not brandy our words around. For weeks now we have been exchanging idle … and not-so idle chatter about our Queen’s surprise new marriage, the character of the consort and the nature of the Inhuman who now resides within our domain. And then, this morning, we all witnessed the incredible,” here he shot a quick glance at Daisy to soften the next words, “And terrifying event up on Mount Gambia. We all have questions. And Her Majesty is here to provide answers.”

Taking her cue May pulled away from Coulson and stepped up onto the Stage. There she was able to see that most of the village had now turned out, that the large towns square was now full with people with the sea of faces only broken up by the large, now frozen water fountain in the middle of the square. She smiled at the small cheer that rose up to greet her as she took the Stage but raised her hand quickly to call for quiet. Her ego wasn’t a priority.

“My beloved citizens,” she began. “It is no secret that we are now living in dangerous times. Our boarders to the south have seen increasing attacks from parties we now know as the Armies of Hydra, and ours is not the only domain to suffer. Last month I left this beautiful land to seek out new treaties with strong, ancient houses, and to further solidify our defences. I was to return with that … and so much more.” She turned to extend a hand to Coulson and invite him up onto the Stage, a perfectly premeditated, beauteous smile gracing her features. As he lightly grasped her hand and allowed himself to be pulled into the spotlight she had a feeling his answering smile was just as performative. “My husband, Lord Phillip Coulson, is a member of the Court and the Brotherhood of the Shield. He fought at the Battle for Afterlife and at the Silver Towers and is a personal confident of King Fury himself.” A murmur of impressed surprise began to take over the crowd; they seemed to like what they were hearing. “With our marriage the most important treaties of Trillieon’s existence were sealed, and we ourselves gained one of the Court’s greatest heroes and brightest military minds. And with that, of course, came Daisy.”

Here the mutterings became more cautious, although not nearly as bad as May had feared they might be. She extended her free hand towards Daisy, who now could not even begin to contain how deeply uncomfortable she was with this whole affair as she half-trudged up onto the Stage and grasped ahold of May’s hand just a bit too tightly.

May continued. “We still don’t know what powers they were that kept Trillieon free of Inhumans. But what I have learnt for certain, after visiting the outside domains, is that we can not remain that way. It is against the natural order of things to try and remain in one state. Stagnant and unchanging. It is not healthy. But change, as reinvigorating as it can be, can also lead to sudden and shocking developments.” Here she paused to smile at Daisy. “Like what you witnessed this morning.”

May squeezed Daisy’s hand and taking that cue, she spoke. “I’m sorry, if I frightened or distressed anyone this morning.” Her voice trembled slightly, but was loud enough to carry as May’s had. “A demonstration of my powers was requested and I … went a little overboard. I am truly —”

“Can you really fly?!”

At this point May was not in the least surprised to see this question coming from the small girl who seemed so enthused with Daisy. Next to her was her mother trying to quieten her with a soft, “Robyn, hush!”

“No, no, it’s okay,” said Daisy, breaking out of her formal way of speech and addressing the girl. “Did you hear that I could fly?”

“Hm-m,” nodded Robyn, staring up at Daisy with wide, wondrous eyes. “That you can fly so high up that you can go over a mountain.”

“Well, I think I’ve proved today that I’d just make the mountain go under me,” answered Daisy without thinking and while Coulson’s hand twitched nervously in her own, the crowd merely laughed. “But no, I can’t fly. But I can jump really, _really_ high.”

“Oh _wow_!” exclaimed Robyn, and she wasn’t the only one who looked impressed by this as many in the crowd exchanged interested looks. “Can we see?”

“Oh … I don’t know if I should …” Daisy looked towards May for guidance, who in turn addressed Tripplet.

“Does the Mayor have any objections?”

“Not at all,” smiled Tripplet. “As long as the lady doesn’t.”

Daisy muttered something just underneath her breath and for a second May’s facade of gentle benevolence cracked … then the moment passed and May pretended that she didn’t hear that. No-one else had.

Daisy dropped May’s hand and took a few steps back while Coulson pulled May in the other direction. “It’s best if we give her room,” he said, partly for May’s benefit but also addressing the crowd. “It’s not at all dangerous but it can be … impressive.”

Daisy bent her knees slightly and held her hands above the ground as if she were pressing down on an invisible barrier. Then it was as if the air around her hands began to thicken and twist as a deep rumbling made most of the crowd draw back as Robyn stared on in awed delight, then a sudden _boom_ echoed throughout the square and Daisy was launched straight up into the sky. There was a chorus of shocked shouts and cries as the crowd as a whole craned their necked back to watch the tiny spot that was now Daisy careen across the sky. Those cries became more panicked as that spot slowly began to enlarge as she fell back towards the earth and even May felt her heart jump into her throat as Daisy plummeted at a speed that could not at all be safe —

— before she slammed into the ground on the other end of the square, knees bent, before straightening up and tossing her now windswept hair back over her shoulders as if it were no big deal.

This time, it wasn’t just Robyn who burst into delighted applause.

 

* * *

 

There was no way Daisy could’ve predicted that her first foray into Trillieon society would be such a splendid success. But here she was, nearly an hour into her visit to Moruya and there were still people who wanted to meet her, to ask her questions about her powers or about the outside world, or just to ask her opinion on certain types of foods or plays. The far sweeping mixed in with the trivial served to make her head swim a little, but it was still much, much better than what she was excepting.

The visiting party had dispersed into the crowd and Daisy had long ago lost sight of those she came with, but that didn’t bother her. At that moment she was sitting just out the front of a bakery where a gaggle of children had surrounded her and claimed her time for their own, to the delight of the adults who watched. Well, most of the adults. Every now and then Daisy caught a glimpse of a mother or father who still eyed her warily, not overly comfortable with her being so close to their children.

And it was the children that really surprised her. It wasn’t just Robyn who was so awestruck by her presence. It seemed that while the adults had half twisted themselves up with stories of her battles and glories and whether or not she was truly sound of mind as an Inhuman, the children had taken every little snippet they’d ever heard of her and woven them into some vast fantasy in which she was the hero.

“You’re like a princess from the old stories!” said one little boy with a halo of black hair as he grabbed her hand and turned it over in his own two small ones. “Where they ride dragons and fight the undead!”

“Oh, I don’t think I’m that good,” said Daisy, making to move her head before stilling against the pull of the other little boy and a girl who were currently weaving ribbons through her hair. “Uh … you guys done back there?”

“Not quite,” _tsked_ the girl, intent on her work. “You’ve got to hold still!”

“Okay …”

“She doesn’t need them, though,” said another girl, this one absolutely tiny with a multitude of dark braids framing her face. “She’s already so pretty!”

Now Daisy was sure her face was flaming red. She wasn’t vain and she knew she was good looking enough, but there was something just so sweet and wholesome about having a child think she was pretty that for a moment she couldn’t speak.

“Ah, there you are!” From out of the crowd Mayor Tripplet emerged. “We were just wondering —” He froze as he took in the sight of Daisy sitting dumbfounded in the middle of a virtual creche, her hair now in braided ribbons. A small round of laughter went through the adult crowd as they watched him take in her predicament, but unlike some laughter that had been directed at her in the past this did not feel in the least malicious. “Are you having fun?”

Daisy’s face was now so hot she swore the odd snowflake that still fell every now and then was melting before it touched her skin. “I told them I didn’t have an Of Age party and they all decided I should have one today.”

“Right,” nodded Tripplet, bemused. “And do you know what an Of Age party is?”

“Something involving ribbons?” she guessed, to which half the children laughed while the other half started to tell her with childish exasperation once again what it was. “Yes, yes, I know what it is!” She began to laugh herself. “But like I said, I don’t think it’s going to happen today!”

“And you would be right,” said Tripplet, folding his arms in a serious manner. “Because I’ve just been talking with the queen and she said that’s it’s nearly time to head back to the castle. No, no, no!” He waved away the disappointed shouts of protest. “Their visit was only supposed to be a short one and besides, you all must be hungry for midday break too? Come now, up you get!”

The group rose up in a grumbling swam, most of the children returning to their parents with a parting wave while a few, Robyn included, briefly wrapped their arms around Daisy’s waist in a fierce hug that brought quickly hidden tears to her eyes. Once the crowd has disbursed Tripplet sidled up to Daisy, grinning. “Looks like you were a huge hit!”

“Yes,” said Daisy, still riding the unfamiliar high that came from so much positive attention. “It seems like someone’s been telling tales about me. Rather flattering ones.”

“Really?” said Tripplet, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

“Really,” she answered as she looked him in the eye. “Which in my experience is rare. It’s usually the scary stuff people learn about me first, be it true or otherwise. I find it rather bizarre that so many heroic versions of my story found their way into Moruya so easily. Perhaps someone of high standing offered some different perspectives?”

Tripplet answered her frank stare with one of his own. “Well, we all had a lot of time to talk during the whiteout.”

“Exchanging idle and not-so idle chatter?” Daisy said, mimicking his earlier words.

“Exactly. And if there were a few … say … respected individuals about the town who preferred to talk of what amazing magics this new Inhuman had and what incredible battles she’d fought — and won — well …” He let the sentence drag to an end as his grin reinstated itself. “Better than letting everyone twist themselves into panicked knots for the entirety of the whiteout.”

Impulsively Daisy threw her arms around Tripplet’s neck in a very brief hug. “Thank you,” she whispered into his ear just before she dropped back down to the ground.

“You got it, girl,” he said, his sudden lapse of formality wonderfully jarring.

“Sir?” Both of the turned to see the owner of the bakery calling the mayor over. The old man looked a little relieved to finally be able to exit his store without tripping over half a dozen children. “Might I have a quick word? Just a few questions about accessing the flour stores …”

“Yes, of course,” Tripplet raised a hand to indicate that he was heading over. “If you don’t mind being left alone for a little while?”

“Not at all,” said Daisy, actually rather glad for at least a moment’s peace. Tripplet smiled and walked off.

Daisy drew in a deep, cleansing breath, and just enjoyed the stillness of the moment. She walked a little bit away from the shop, still within eyesight, until she came to rest against a low wall that bordered on someone’s home. The square was still buzzing with activity but she could see it starting to wind down as people returned to their homes, their curiosity satisfied. In the far distance she could see a section where the crowd thickened and she was sure that was where Coulson and May were. She wondered how Coulson was fairing in all this.

“That was quite a spectacle you put on there.”

Daisy nearly launched herself into the air once again before she spun around to confront whoever was behind her. It was a man, a little taller than her with a dark complexion, closely cut black hair and a neat moustache. She placed a hand over her heart and gave him a scathing look that was half-mocking, half-sincere. “Don’t you know you shouldn’t sneak up on people?”

He shrugged, nonplused, his heavy leather jacket creaking on his shoulders. “Sorry, chica. But you see, you are the one sitting on my wall. Can’t hardly be sneaking if I’m in my own yard, can I?”

“Do you want me to move?”

“No, no,” he shook his head and then turned around to lean against the wall in much the same fashion Daisy was, just on the other side and facing the other direction. “In fact, I’m actually real happy to have you come and lean up right on my wall, of all places. Didn’t get a chance to meet you earlier, what with all your admirers.”

There was something in his tone that was beginning to put Daisy on edge. It wasn’t threatening or contemptuous but there was definitely something burning beneath his words. She turned so she could view his face fully, his sharp features and deep, black eyes. There seemed something about him that was … dangerous. Sad and dangerous and indefinable. But it wasn’t directed at her so much as all around her and he met her gaze unflinchingly. “Look, in case those last displays of the past hour didn’t clear it up enough for you — I don’t do subtly. What do you want to say to me?”

He smiled and turned his head away as if she’d just shared a joke. “Oh, I know you don’t do subtly. That’s why I’m here. Because I believe that you hate lies and secrets as much as me, but know how to keep them just as well as I can.”

“Your point. Make it.” Daisy’s eyes were now scanning the square, keenly looking out for whoever might be watching her now. Her soldier’s senses were beginning to prick at her just as the stranger leant in close enough for her to feel the heat of him against her shoulder. She nearly flinched as her head swung back towards him, eyes wide. No normal person should feel that hot and in an instant she knew what he was going to say just before he said it.

“You’re not Trillieon’s first Inhuman.”

_“Daisy!”_

The sound of Jemma calling her snapped the moment into dust. Daisy leapt to her feet as she saw Jemma pushing her way through the crowd in the distance, and though her attention was only diverted for an instant that was all the time the mystery man needed to slip away and back to the safety of his home. Daisy managed just to catch one final glimpse of him and just before he closed his front door he paused and nodded slightly in her direction.

“Oh, thank goodness I found you — oh, your _hair_!”

“I — what? Oh, yeah, this.” Daisy had forgotten about all the brightly coloured ribbons the kids had braided into her hair. She reached up to play with the end of one of them. “I hear this is all the fashion for an Of Age party.”

“A … what?” Jemma screwed up her face in a confused frown but before Daisy could elaborate Tripplet suddenly reappeared at their side, this time holding a small cloth covered plate.

“Ladies,” he said, smoothly lifting the cloth for a moment to reveal delicious bite-sized tarts. “Compliments of the baker, for your ride back.” He quickly picked up on the mood that was emanating from the two women, though for two very different reasons. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yes,” said Jemma, smiling. “It’s just we didn’t know where Daisy was for a while, and I must admit I got a tad worried.”

Daisy smiled winningly as the overly sweet smell of the tarts made her already nervous stomach clench and groan. “Aw, you didn’t need to worry about me!” She felt like her words might one day have a tragically ironic ring to them but couldn’t stop. “This is probably the nicest place I’ve ever been too!”

 

 

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

 

 

 

Though the ride back to the castle was just as slow going as the ride out had been, at least this journey was free of the tension that had plagued them earlier. In fact, Jemma found the atmosphere in the carriage to be one of almost cat-like lethargy as the three of them were content to nibble on the tarts that had been gifted to them and allow the gently rocking of the carriage to lull them into a stupor.

Jemma’s own mind was far from where her body currently was as she gazed out sightlessly at the white landscape, a half eaten tart suspended just near her lips as she carefully turned over a very recent memory of a conversation she’d just had. It had occurred just after she’d located the mayor and Daisy, and had managed to wend back towards the carriage with one hand on Daisy’s arm as she half-guided, half-shielded her from the ever present press of curious onlookers. The people of Moruya were always the most pleasant of sorts but Jemma could tell from Daisy’s tense frame and wandering looks that her dear friend was reaching her limit of being out on show. So with many ‘pardon us’s’ and ‘maybe next time’s’ they made their way back to the safety of the carriage that was just halfway through preparations for the return.

 _“Would it be against protocol if I were to just crawl back inside and hide there until we’re ready to go?” Daisy had asked in a quiet voice, and although Jemma could sense the jest in her words she was a little worried to hear a faint edge of seriousness to them, too._ Poor thing must be getting overwhelmed.

_“We just need to make our farewells to the mayor, officially, and then we’ll be off,” she’d answered soothingly before reaching up to play with the end of one plait. “And I can take those silly things out!”_

_At this Daisy finally snapped a little out of her stupor as she exclaimed, “Oh no! I quite like them!”, covering her head protectively with both hands as she gave Jemma a wide-eyed look and a sly grin._

_Tripplet laughed at this along with Jemma. “Well, if for some reason you ever truly want an Of Age party, I’m sure the children of the village would be more than happy to accommodate you there.”_

_“I’ll be sure to remember that.”_

_As the three of them joked Jemma’s attention drifted as she scanned the crowds. Just nearby was her queen, hands clasped demurely in front of her as she bent her head down to listen to some entreaty that was being made by a wizened old woman while Bobbi stood protectively by her side. And just a little way from there, the furthest from the carriage, was Lord Coulson. What she saw both surprised and pleased her. Coulson was deeply engaged in conversation with a small throng of attentive listeners, his arms loose at his sides, his manner attentive and at ease. Jemma couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but she could see the light in everyone’s eyes and how they hung onto every word he spoke. She had never thought about it before but seeing Coulson now in this new light proved that not only was he quiet the orator but that he seemed to have a natural, winsome public presence. Something, she thought ruefully, that he’d not had the chance to display while at the castle. It was hard to show off your public speaking skills when most of the public was wary if not openly hostile towards you._

_She excused herself, leaving Tripplet and Daisy chatting happily while she made her way over to now fetch Coulson back to the visiting party. He saw her coming and nodding in understanding, so just as she arrived she was able to hear him wrapping up his tale._

_“ … but in all honestly, planning only takes you so far, and you should never be so fixed on_ what _you want to happen that you can’t change to suit what_ has _happened. Sometimes the tide of the battle turns on the slightest decision or moment. There’s a very fine line between a victory and a tragedy.”_

_“Yes, and it all had to do with when the wedding occurs,” interjected Jemma, causing a few in the crowd to laugh at the old joke while Coulson just furrowed his brow in befuddlement._

_“I beg your pardon?” he asked, clearly lost, and Jemma felt a wave of embarrassment._

_“Oh, nothing, just a silly little thing about plays,” she said, waving her hands. “It’s an unwritten rule that a victory or comedy play will sometimes end with a wedding, while a tragedy or morality play will begin with one.”_

_“Is that so?” he said, and while she couldn’t tell if his interest was real or not she felt the need to elaborate._

_“Oh, it’s not a real rule, more like an observation really, and there’s plenty of plays that don’t follow that formula at all —”_

_Coulson was already holding up his hand to stop her tirade. “It’s okay, my lady. Truth be told, I must confess that I know so little about plays that I would’ve accepted anything you said on the matter as a gospel truth.” Once again the crowd gave a murmur of amusement before he continued. “I’m guessing our time is drawing to a close?”_

_“Yes,” confirmed Jemma, and was once again pleased to see disheartened looks shoot between members of the crowd. A very good sign. “I’ve been sent to gather everyone together. We should be heading off soon.”_

_“Very well,” nodded Coulson, though it would be another few minutes of hand shaking and promises of a returned and prolonged meeting before they headed back to the carriage. On their return trip Coulson seemed lighter and more at ease than she’d seen him for a long time now. “Not a word of a lie here … I actually ended up enjoying myself just now.”_

_“Well, this has certainly been far less painful than I feared,” nodded Jemma, once again feeling a stab of pity for the lord and his confinement._

_“I will confess, I had certain reservations about this whole thing as well,” said Coulson, who then nodded to where Tripplet and Daisy were. “But things seem to have been helped along by some rather complimentary gossip, curtesy of of Lord Mayor other there. If not others.”_

_Jemma didn’t miss how his eyes darted over towards the queen for a moment._

_“Well, hopefully that complimentary gossip will find its way into the other towns and villages across Trillieon before the banquet,” sighed Jemma, knowing even as she spoke those words that it wouldn’t be possible. She feared that prejudice was too deeply ingrained in Trilleion society — she only had to look regretfully at her own previous attitudes to believe that._

_“Hopefully,” echoed Coulson, but it was clear from his tone that he didn’t believe it any more than she did. His gaze was still on Daisy. “Bit of a shame we can’t do this with Daisy in all the other major towns … it might help sooth public concerns but she would absolutely_ hate _being out on display like that for so long.” He stopped and shrugged. “But all the major nobles will have to be here for the banquet, so I guess they can all see for themselves then. And perhaps later take the news of how wonderful she is back to their own corners of the domain.”_

_Jemma sighed again at this and made a vague noise of agreement, but her heart didn’t feel this to be the truth at all and her mind was already turning over the problem in an effort to supply a solution. The prescience of the queen, her consort and their new Inhuman resident had served to sooth Moruya, but with the tyranny of distance between them how were they to convince those in the more isolated regions that, despite such massive changes, all was at the capital?_

_It was a question she had mulled over quietly as the queen gave her parting address and Mayor Tripplet had formally farewelled them before once again grasping warmly at May’s hands, kissing Jemma’s cheek in a brotherly fashion and sending Daisy a smile that had a little more heat behind it than usual. A smile, she was interested to see, Daisy returned._

_Lord Coulson was there to help them into the carriage and as her passed May over, the final passenger, Jemma heard a brief exchange of words between them._

_“You handled that well,” May had murmured, almost too quiet to hear._

_“I’m actually a little disappointed that it was just the hour.”_

_“Oh, really?”_

_“What can I say? I’m a people-person,” Coulson answered, grinning, before he closed the carriage door and their little party began the slow progress back up the side of the mountain to the castle._

 

 

Memories of the sounds of fond farewell from the people of Moruya echoed in the back of Jemma’s mind as the carriage finally pulled into the courtyard of Moruya castle, and she blinked heavily and shook herself slightly as she realised that their journey was at an end. That second trip had seemed much shorter than the one out and, even more amazing, she had appeared to have finished her tart though she had no memory of actually eating it, but she attributed all this to the fact that her mind had been otherwise occupied, slowly been cobbling together something of a plan. A little strange, perhaps. Not unheard of, possibly unwelcome by those it would affect, but there was a high chance in her good opinion of it being successful.

The carriage lurched to a stop. “Well,” started May, who’s good spirits Jemma suspected had as much to do with the nearly silent journey back as it had been with the successful visit, “It looks like your first public meeting was a triumph, though a little unorthodox.”

Daisy smiled happily, although Jemma still thought she looked drained. “It was incredible. If you had told me even two months ago that children in Trillieon would actually …” She trailed off, one hand going to play with the ends of her plaits once more. “Incredible.”

Jemma grasped her hand and smiled too, quickly adding. “I still want to take those ridiculous things out.”

“Not yet.”

The three alighted from the carriage before anyone could assist them, the formal ceremony from the village now abandoned in more casual settings though the Lady Rodriguez was still there to welcome them back, as was her duty.

As they ascended the stairs to the main entrance she smiled down at them, and while Jemma found nothing to be amiss in the stewardess’ behaviour or tone she couldn’t help but notice that something about her smile seemed a little … fixed? But before she could analyse it the Lady said, “Well, judging from those happy faces I am to assume that the visit was a success?”

“Resoundingly so,” smiled May as they swept indoors.

“Truly?” The word burst out of her unexpectedly and for a second she looked stunned. Then all composure was recovered and her usual serene expression fell back into place. “I am very glad for you. All of you,” she said with a pointed look at Daisy, who inclined her head. “And I believe that you will be happy to know that the midday meals are prepared and waiting for you in your chambers.”

At the mention of being able to retreat into the quiet sanctuary of her chambers May visibly relaxed though Jemma had a sneaking suspicion that neither Coulson nor Daisy, who were as of yet not nearly as aquatinted with her queen as she was, might’ve missed it. “Oh, thank-you Elena. I’ll go there directly.”

“May I join you?” asked Coulson swiftly, and Jemma could’ve kicked him if she’d been closer. “I have much to ask you about Moruya and its people.”

 _Oh, not a good time_ , thought Jemma desperately as she and Rodriguez shared pained looks while Daisy just seemed confused. May for her part just stared back at Coulson, her face unreadable. When she did speak it was with a slow and controlled pace.

“While I must admit that I am pleased that you have taken an interest, I’m afraid that now would not be the most opportune time to discuss it,” she said quietly. “We shall, later.”

And with that May swept up the stairs towards her chamber and was gone.

Jemma shivered. It had been warmer outside. Though there was nothing at all uncivil or malicious in her words, Jemma could tell that May was rather annoyed or perhaps even disappointed in Coulson, and she could guess why. For his part, he at least had the decency to look a little shame-faced although there was a air of confusion that was shared with Daisy that Jemma felt she had to explain.

“Her majesty always takes at least an hour to herself after any public engagement,” she said quickly and quietly, hoping that none of her words managed to drift up the stairs and to her queen’s ears. “I’m sure everything is fine. I mean, there was no possible way you could’ve known.” _Except maybe if you’d spent a bit more meaningful time with her._ As much as Jemma had come to respect and even like Coulson, she was still her queen’s lady first and could not quite forgive him for his distant and cool treatment of his wife. _Maybe some of your own medicine will do you some good._ Although she said nothing and her face was perfectly smooth, she had a sneaking feeling that Coulson knew exactly what she had been thinking.

“Ah,” was all he said, shifting his weight around a little as he turned to Rodriguez. “So am I to assume then that …?”

“Your midday meal is in your chambers, yes,” nodded Rodriguez.

“Ah, good.” The confident lord from the town square was slowly morphing back into the quiet, unsure man she had become accustomed to. While she once again felt sorry for him, she was also happy that she had been able to see his other side. She might never have thought of her plan had she not.

“Well, I’ll take my meal with you, if you please,” said Daisy a tad loudly, obviously desperate to break this new tension. “I’ve so much to tell you.”

“Oh good,” answered Coulson a little too jovially as he offered a fatherly arm to her. “I’m sure whatever you have to say will somehow explain away all … this.”

“My hair looks wonderful and you’re all just jealous.”

Jemma smiled at their retreating backs before turning to Elena in a manner that made the stewardess raise an eyebrow in anticipation. “Oh, I have seen that look before. What is it, Jemma?”

An excited grin split her face. “I’ve had an idea.”

 

* * *

 

A few days after their visit to Moruya a meeting was called in the Council Chambers. Coulson watched with a mixture of amusement and concern as the diverse group gathered themselves around the large oak table. There was the Queen, Stewardess, the Head of the House, FitzSimmons and Daisy and, to his discomfort, the Head of the Guard was also in attendance with Guard Morse close by his side. No seats had been provided indicating that this was to be a short meeting so the guests in attendance huddled in small groups rather than sat in ranked position and Coulson had wondered if this had been a deliberate choice on Melinda’s part in an attempt to avoid any unnecessary confrontations. Because if his knowledge of Trillieon protocol was correct, if they had been sitting in order then he would’ve usurped Gonzales’ position as Consort over the Head of the Guard at Melinda’s right hand.

But then, perhaps, she truly did intend for this to be a short meeting. Still, Coulson couldn’t help but notice that Gonzales’ eyes fell heavily upon him more often than they should, and decided that in the interest of civility he should play the dumb-man and pretend that he had no knowledge of any sort of protocol to begin with.

Particularly considering what had just been proposed.

“I will be the first to admit that none of this is conventional,” Jemma said, nervously twisting her hands as the rest of those gathered studied the map that was now spread across the table. “But I think we can all admit that ‘conventional’ isn’t exactly the word one might use to describe this entire affair thus far.”

“Hardly,” agreed Melinda softly, her eyes travelling along the route that had been marked out on the map with interest.

“Conventional or not, from the moment Lady Simmons suggested it I felt that this had real potential for soothing perceived wounds,” said Lady Rodriguez.

“And unconventional problems usually demand unconventional solutions,” added Fitz.

Mackenzie looked down upon the table with folded arms, nodding thoughtfully. “A national tour. Hm. That wouldn’t have been my first suggestion but it does hold some weight.” He looked up and around at those gathered. “I agree with it.”

It had turned out that for the last few days Jemma and Elena had been formulating a plan designed in calming the nerves of the more regional nobles. Now that the whiteout was ended a few minor whispers of unease had begun to drift past the castle and while nothing was concrete or verified, it was enough to concern those within. The ladies had proposed a national tour of the Queen and her new Consort that would pass through every major township, a sort of national meet-and-greet. Along the way the royal procession would in essence pick up those lords and ladies who were invited to the welcoming banquet, ensuring that a large collection of Trillieon’s nobles would all arrive back at Castle Moruya in a months time.

“A bold plan,” stated Gonzales, his eyes fixed on the map. “Bold indeed.”

“Do you disagree with it?” asked Melinda mildly and Coulson braced himself.

But to his surprise Gonzales shook his head. “Not at all, majesty. I can even say that I agree with the route that was chosen, although I might make a suggestion that you should take the Southern Pass at the Kellargy Ranges rather than the Western one. But for the most part …” he looked up at Jemma and smiled in his peculiar way, “Very well thought out, Lady Simmons.”

For some reason, Gonzales’ ready agreement ran against Coulson’s grain. He tried to pass if off as personal dislike.

Jemma beamed. “It was the visit to Moruya that inspired it. I do not believe that the general population is afraid so much of Daisy or Lord Coulson as they are at the _unfamiliarity_ of them. If they had a chance to view the queen and her consort together, that would go a long way to soothing any concerns that were manifesting out there.”

“But if that is the case, why exclude me?” asked Daisy. She didn’t sound offended, merely curious.

“Two-fold, really,” answered Jemma. “People are already very interested in you but not always in the most positive way. If we can build some sort of favourable image of you before your first tour — as was done in Moruya — then things should go much smoother later on.”

“And the second reason?”

Jemma smiled and shrugged apologetically. “Honestly? To prepare _you_. You have a wonderful nature and soul, but your public persona needs work.”

Daisy opened her mouth to protest, stopped, thought about it for a moment, then nodded in agreement. “Fair.”

“Yes, but none of this is going to happen without agreement from all concerned and of course, your word, majesty,” said Rodriguez, nodding deferentially towards Melinda.

“Well, there’ll be no issues from the House,” said Mackenzie. “A few minor changes, but nothing we can’t handle.”

“And the Guard is in agreement, too,” said Gonzales in his gruff manner. “Morse and I will being to detail a security attachment right away.”

It took a few seconds before Coulson realised that everyone was staring at him, waiting for his word on the subject. “Me? Oh. Well, as stated before, I go wherever my queen goes.”

With that everyone turned to look at Melinda, who was quietly mulling it over. “Very unconventional,” she murmured thoughtfully. “Bold and new.” She looked up at Jemma and Elena, smiling slightly. “And just what the domain needs, I agree. See to the necessary preparations.”

Jemma practically melted with relief. “Oh, thank you majesty!" she said as the lent over the table and gathered up the maps and other loose sheets to clutch them to her chest, as the others in the room made to leave.

“Majesty?” Coulson’s ears pricked up at Gonzales’ voice. “Could myself and Morse have one final moment of your time?”

“Of course,” nodded Melinda, turning to face him, and for a blinding second Coulson ran over every single idea that came to mind that would allow him to join in on that conversation without making it painfully obvious that it was an intrusion before any choice was taken out of his hands by Mackenzie appearing in front of him.

“As wonderful and … _interesting_ as this idea is, there will have to be some changes to the banquet,” he began without preamble, and Coulson felt his soul shrivel up just a little.

“Ah … yes. So I take it we are to return to the planning stages once more?” His mind was only half focused on Mackenzie. Out the corner of his eye he could see that Melinda now had her head bent towards Gonzales, listening intently, while Morse stood a little to the side. It was only a fraction too late that he realised that she was making it clear that she was watching him watching them. _Damn_. She would undoubtedly inform Gonzales of Coulson’s interest later.

And then the door to the Council Chambers closed and Coulson was left to simply guess at what was happening.

A few very tedious hours later after Mackenzie had finally released him, Coulson found himself in need of some fresh air and decided to go outside to the top of the orchard. As he gazed down at the endless lines of bare-branched trees that cascaded downward, all backed by an incredible view of distant mountains, he was once again reminded of that night he ascended that very hill right at the beginning of the whiteout. Carefully, as he had done many, many times since, he sifted through that whirling white memory of the sounds of someone following him out there in the darkness. As before, he felt a calm confidence in his own senses, regardless of what he’d been told later. There had been someone else out there at evening and whiteout or not, he was convinced that whoever it was hadn’t disappeared from the equation just yet.

And considering what Daisy had told him, just after their arrival back from Moruya, he was even more convinced.

As if thinking her name had called her into existence, Coulson turned and smiled as the familiar voice called out to him. Daisy came trotting out of the castle, still slipping ever so slightly in the unfamiliar snow but now much more sure of her footing than she had been. “I was told I could find you out here.” She turned to face the vista he was admiring and made a noise of amazement. “You were right. This is a beautiful place.”

“And surprisingly secretive.”

She turned to face him. “You’re thinking about that night, aren’t you? You think it was an Inhuman.”

“Oh, I know it was an Inhuman,” said Coulson flatly. “I only wish I knew their intentions.”

“Well, you won’t have much chance to do that with you about be off on the royal tour,” said Daisy, shrugging. “I would say that was a bit of bad luck but, when you look at it, it’s not so terrible for you, is it?”

To that Coulson just folded his arms and gave Daisy a ‘is-that-so?’ look.

“Oh, you know,” she continued, mirroring his folded arms. “Getting out into the domain, seeing the lay of the land for yourself, seeing what their defences are actually like, have firsthand, personal meetings with the most important nobles in the region and, most importantly, being able to do all with without the constant watchful eye of the entire Guard following your every move.”

“You know what?” said Coulson slowly as if he was thinking all this over for the first time. “Those do sound like some pretty compelling reasons.”

“Ha! I just want to know, how did you get Jemma to think of it?”

“I didn’t make Jemma think of anything. This was all her own idea.”

“Uh-huh. But I always love how many times people tend to have ideas that so closely link up with your own interests.”

“Just lucky, I suppose,” he said neutrally. “Like how it’s pretty lucky that there’s an actual group here in Moruya who have a fascination with Providence. That’s making your research not only easy to do, but also completely unremarkable.”

“Well, I will admit, that is a bit of luck,” she nodded. “However, from all but one account, Providence is a myth. _The Search for Providence_ perhaps gives us the best factual starting point, but not too much else. And most people, excepting those with a fantastical outlook on life, dismiss the whole idea as cloud-whispers.” She paused, thinking. “How sure was Fury sure that this was a real place?”

“As sure as he is about most things,” said Coulson. “Well, keep looking. If nothing else the research will help establish contacts. Look at what it did just for you and FitzSimmons.” Here he saw her wince slightly. “Everything alright?”

“I just feel strange that the opening of our friendship began with a bit of a falsehood,” shrugged Daisy, trying her best to throw off her unease.

“Not a harsh falsehood, but any measure. And besides, they’ll never know,” said Coulson soothingly. “And if for some reason Providence _is_ discovered, … well … it’s never that had to let other people take credit for such things.”

It was just at that moment the two of them heard someone calling out to them and they turned around as one to see the diminutive form of Piper making her way sure-footedly towards them. “My Lord. Daisy,” she sketched out a quick bow before facing Coulson directly. “Sir, your presence has been requested by her majesty.”

Coulson’s brows shot up at this overly formal solicitation. “Very well. Where am I to go?”

Piper shifted a little awkwardly as she said, “I was instructed to bring you directly, sir.”

He and Daisy shared a look. “Very mysterious,” commented Daisy, intrigued but not alarmed. “Whatever this is for, it seems she wants your honest reaction.”

“She always has that,” said Coulson without thinking, though they both knew that if Piper weren’t there he would’ve had a very different reaction. As it was he just extended and arm and said, “Lead on!”

Piper took him though some of the lower levels of the castle until they reached the southern wing where they descended down two small flights of stairs until they came out into a large room that appeared to be half underground, a long row of windows just against the ceiling still covered with ice and snow so that any light that came through was muted. The room was very spacious and sparse, with no furniture of any kind within the centre and the floor heavily carpeted with a thick, spongy mat. Lining all the walls Coulson saw racks upon rack of weapons though closer inspection revealed that they were all dummies, wooden replicas that were using in training. He’d been in enough training rooms to recognise one, though there was just one thing he was not prepared to see.

And that was Melinda, standing alone right in the centre of the room, still dressed exactly as she had been at the meeting only this time she was also holding a quarterstaff. Her face was like stone and for the first time in a long time Coulson fully appreciated that cool, calm, controlled energy that radiated off her like smoke. The bridge of his nose started to itch.

“Thank you, Piper,” she said politely and the small guard was quick to bow and exit, closing the door firmly behind her. “Phillip. It’s time we talked.”

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

Melinda walked in smooth, even paces from one end of the training room to the other. Once she reached the rough hewed walls she paused, tense in thought, before turning neatly around and retracing her steps with equal precision back towards the wide spanning racks filled with dummy weapons. With barely a break in her stride she gathered her rather voluminous dress-skirts up in both her hands to free her lower legs, allowing her to slip one foot under a quarterstaff that was sitting on the lower part of the rack, gracefully pivoting the long shaft of wood on the top of her boot for a moment before kicking it into the air and catching it singlehandedly.

She spun the quarterstaff easily for a few moments, appreciating the well-worn smoothness of the wood and the perfectly balanced weight out it before she let it simply dangle from one hand, a sigh slipping out of her. Then, with little else to do, she began to pace her way across the room once more.

She wasn’t nervous. Many would consider her pacing to be a symptom of nerves, but it was far from that. She was _annoyed_ and had been for much longer than even she’d realised. And while it might not be the most elegant was of dealing with such things, Melinda had always found that a vigorous training session that exhausted the body went a long way to easing a troubled mind. And if the subject of her mental distress just happened to be the object of her physical aggression, then that was simply a case of two birds shot down by the same arrow.

She had just sent Piper off to collect Coulson from wherever he was currently hiding from her. Yes, hiding, because that was really was the only way she could think of it. He had been hiding from her in body, mind and soul from the very moment he’d set foot in Trillieon and she was now sick of it. At first she had made obvious allowances; this was an entirely different world to him, a strange new home, a somewhat volatile population. But as time had gone on Melinda had noticed more and more that her gentle probings into his life before, his habits, his thoughts, his wishes and dreams, had all been carefully but firmly rebuffed. And what made her all the more annoyed, and what pushed this annoyance into something more akin to anger, was the fact that Coulson had been so delicate and underhanded in building his emotional barricade that Melinda hadn’t even truly noticed it was there until it had been completely formed.

 _That_ irritated her beyond all measure. That he had managed not only to deceived her, but that he did so in such a subtle manner that she had not managed to see what was happening until it was almost beyond her control.

Almost.

It had been Gonzales who’d planted the idea, though Melinda was still unsure if it had been intentional or not. It had merely been a passing observation, a remark about how different Coulson could appear in whatever situation he was presented with. A father to Daisy, a fellow scholar to Jemma, a peer to Fitz, a student to Mackenzie. A figurehead for the Moruya.

Manipulation of all kinds was common, from Jemma’s obvious attempt at securing favour, to Elena’s gentle probings in matters of state. all of court life was manipulation of some kind. It’s just that she was foolish enough to dismiss Coulson as merely a solider, unaware of court life. He’d had the advantage of her because she’d never even considered such a thing from him.

But now … now she had been deceived, trust would be a precious thing to win back.

She heard them coming down the stone steps, heavy footfalls and no talking. That gave her just enough time to cease her pacing in the middle of the room and turn to face the door, ready to meet them. Piper was first through, pushing open the door and giving a small bow before allowing Coulson to follow behind. His eyes set upon her right away, but then quickly skittered off as he took in the rest of the room, confusion melting into understanding as he saw the purpose of this place, which then shifted back into a more alarmed confusion as he clearly began to wonder what the reason for meeting down here could be.

Melinda didn’t buy these seemingly obvious shifts in emotions that played out like a theatre production across his face. If anything, it only served to heighten her irritation as it reminded her how she had, in the early days, taken his expressive nature as the truth, as some sort of window into what he was truly thinking. But now, she knew that this was all an act. An act she could almost appreciate, if it hadn’t been directed at her. Her own features remained as if made of stone.

Piper clearly was not the most comfortable she had ever been and a soon as she had made the most perfunctory of introductions Melinda answered with a smooth, “Thank you, Piper,” that also doubled as a dismissal that the young soldier didn’t hesitate to grab. As soon as the door closed Melinda turned her steely gaze upon the now wary man before her. “Phillip. It’s time we talked.”

“Talked?” he repeated innocently enough, but she now saw the way his face tensed. Just a little, just around the eyes. “Talked about what?” Repetition. A simple delaying tactic, one that tried to buy him time as he thought through this situation. She had seen it before in the way he acted and now felt another surge of annoyance that she had just let such things slip by before, because she felt sorry for his situation, because she felt that he was earnest. She had been taught and trained from a young age to recognise and combat such schemes, and yet she had failed to do so with Coulson because … she liked him.

And that was the seed of her irritation.

“About our upcoming tour,” she said. He frowned at this, sensing that this was not entirely the truth. And it was not. Not a lie, but not the whole truth. An action with a very different result in mind. _You’ve only bested me in this game so far because I wasn’t playing._

When she provided no further explanation to this, just stood there coolly, Coulson was then forced to ask, “Our tour? Is this really the place to be discussing such things?”

“Absolutely,” said Melinda, neither her tone nor face changing. “Whilst Trillieon is safer than most other domains, these are trying times and it has been brought to my attention that while there have been many … stories … no-one here actually knows what your skills on the battlefield are actually like.”

Melinda saw a flash in his eyes that might’ve been genuine. Deliberately poking at a sore spot for him might’ve been almost childishly beneath her, had they been equal in this game from the beginning, and she needed to throw him off his balance. However, when he answered it was with almost frustrating civility.

“Well, the life of a consort doesn’t seem to lend itself to much daring-dos.”

A subtle jab for her this time, but one that did not land. She just elegantly shrugged in reply. “Neither does the life of a general, really. And with such a powerful Inhuman at your side … well, be honest. When was the last time you truly had to fight with nothing but your wits and hands?”

Coulson was now looking at her with narrowed eyes, clearly wondering where this somewhat hostile conversation was coming from but not yet ready to call her out on it. After a few long moments he said flatly, “Admittedly, it has been a while since I have been out on the field. But those memories don’t fade, nor does the body quickly forget how to survive.”

With barely a twitch of a single brow Melinda managed to convey the fact that she didn’t clearly didn’t have as much confidence in those memories as he did, but instead of saying it outright she just nodded towards the dummy weapons. “Well, nevertheless, I think that before our grand tour we should at least go some way to determining exactly how clear those memories are.”

Coulson’s eyes tracked along her own gaze to the weapons and the back again, nonplussed. Then, at a second glance, surprise lit up his face and Melinda flattered herself to think that this at least wasn’t an act. “You don’t — do you actually wish to spar against me?”

“I would think that the setting of this conversation should have prepared you for this,” she answered, with a somewhat indulgent eye-roll.

He definitely did not see that coming. “May I ask _why_?”

“I just told you why.”

“No. I mean, why you?” he frowned. “If you wished to know my skills in matters of battle I thought you would’ve set me before a member of the Guard, or perhaps had me prove myself before Gonzales …?”

She was already shaking her head. “That’s not how things are done here,” she said quickly, only now realising that there was a disadvantage with this distance he was keeping. He wasn’t as knowledgeable of her ways as he could have been. As he _should_ have been. “I test every member of my Guard personally.”

He nodded, more out of instinct than understanding, and went to remove his heavy coat.

She held up a hand to stop him. “And what are you doing?”

His confusion deepened. “Apparently, preparing for combat.”

“Really?” she shook her head. “And do you think our assailants with be thoughtful enough to allow us time to neatly strip down to more comfortable and mobile attire?”

He eyed her easy dress dubiously. “You wish to fight as is?”

“It only makes sense,” she answered, finally moving as she went to stand off on the far corner of the mat. “A man unencumbered, warm and limber fights very different to one cold and stiff from hours of travel, yet it is the second man who must face unexpected challenges.” She nodded towards the weapons racks. “Choose whatever you think you’ll be carrying with you on this trip.”

While Coulson did not look particularly enthused with this whole idea, frowning as he went and plucked a short sword from the racks, he still nevertheless came to face her with no further objections … at least, he didn’t voice them. His eyes told another story.

“Don’t worry,” she said, her tone as flat as her expression. She spun the quarterstaff around so it was now behind her. “You won’t hurt me.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about that at all,” he answered, placing the sword at his side in the imitation of it hanging from a scabbard. For the first time since he entered the room, he smiled. A little awkward, a little strained, but a real smile. “What I am worried about is how badly you’re going to kick my ass.”

Melinda blinked. Then her hand tightened on the staff. It was things like that, those little smiles, the small glimpses of the real man that reminded her again and again of what she liked about him. But instead of saying anything or even trying to analyse these emotions in her own mind, all she did was answer him with a smile of her own. Sharp, and cold.

“Good. You should be.”

Then she launched herself at him.

Melinda raised the staff high over her head and brought it down in a wide swooping motion, a simple and easy attack to avoid. She had already decided to start easy with him, not because of sentiment but because that was how she tested all her other Guards. It wouldn’t be fair to smash him into the ground right away, no matter how very badly she wanted to. But even with an easy attack she was still surprisingly fast and Coulson only just barely managed to bring his sword up to block her attack, his smile disappearing in shock as muscle memory took over and he used the momentum of her move to duck around her and push her away. She didn’t hesitate as she struck one end of the staff into the mat to spin and thrust herself back towards him, swinging the staff towards his midriff in another wide attack he managed to block.

He wasn’t smiling anymore. Good. She swung a few more times, her moves a bit more complicated now but he still managed to hold her back. Better. But he still wasn’t attacking, just defending, keeping his distance as his keen eyes passed over every inch of her. He was trying to analyse her technique, understand her way of thinking. Very poor. He’d wasted weeks given to him to do just that.

“Pure defence won’t work on the road,” Melinda said, taking a few moments to walk around him, forcing him to twist slightly.

“I’m figuring out —” The rest of what he might’ve said was lost in a strangled grunt as Melinda struck at his knees in a move that he didn’t quite managed to block this time. His left leg buckled and he hit the ground in a single kneeling position.

However, just as a fleeting sense of disappointment brushed past her — surely he wouldn’t be so easy to defeat — he surprised her by dropping the sword completely and throwing himself bodily towards her. It was such a sudden and reckless move that she froze, for just an instant. An instant was all he needed as he snatched at the staff and threw himself backwards onto his back, one foot coming into contact with her stomach as he flipped her easily over the top of him, wrenching her grip from the staff and sending her flying backwards across the floor.

As she skidded backwards she could feel her skirts bunching up and tangling, the calves and lower thighs of her legs exposed momentarily before she was once again on her feet, her skirt falling easily back in place with the help of a practiced hand. Well. That was unexpected.

And that wasn’t all that was unexpected. As she looked back at Coulson who was now holding her staff horizontally, she was confused to see him staring at her, mouth agape. For a split second she wondered what could have possibly caused that expression until she saw a faint tinge glow across his cheeks that had nothing to do with exertion.

He had, for the first time, seen her exposed legs.

Realisation hit the two of them at the same time and he looked away, embarrassed, while she for some bizarre reason wanted to laugh. It was just her _legs_ , surely he’d seen a woman’s legs before. Why was he acting so … bashful?

Coulson cleared his throat. “Um … are we done?”

 _Not a chance._ Melinda rolled across the mat in a smooth motion, picking up Coulson’s abandoned sword and thrusting it up underneath the staff, grabbing the flat side as it came up so now it and the staff formed a T-shaped barrier between them, Coulson holding fast but unable to move. They were now close, almost nose to nose if she had been a little taller, their bodies just a few inches from being flush against each other. She grinned at his startled expression. “We’re done when I say we’re done.”

“Got it.” Coulson wasted no time as he let one end of the staff go and darted off to one side, pulling the staff free and missing Melinda’s face by a hair’s breath. He then spun the staff around once and again took a defensive stance.

“Not good enough, Coulson,” Melinda shook her head as she stalked around him again, the sword swinging in her hand with restless ease. “In that position it would’ve been a smarter move to use the staff to hit me in the face rather than retreat.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Almost without waring a red hot spark of anger shot through her. He didn’t want to hurt her? It was too late for that. Much too late.

A sneer flashed across her lips. “Then we’re playing by different rules.”

To emphasise her point she made a sudden dash towards him, her internet much more direct and violent than before. She dropped to her knees at the last moment to skid by, hitting Coulson in the stomach then the back of the legs in quick succession with the flat side of the sword, rolling neatly and rising to a stand just as he once again sunk to his knees, winded. As one hand went to his stomach, the other now holding the staff in a white knuckled grip, he glared up at her and for the first time all pretence was gone. There was no neutral mask, no carefully composed politeness, no neatly hidden annoyance. He didn’t like that. Now, just like her, he was angry.

_Good._

She charged him again, slashing the sword down with ruthless precision at his kneeling figure, but this time Coulson not only blocked her blow, he actively pushed back into it with such force that her whole body shook and the grip of the handle slipped in her hands as she stumbled back a step. Shock morphed into satisfaction. Good! Maybe there would be a real fight today. She had barely even broken a sweat so far.

Elation must’ve shown on her face because disbelief passed over his, followed by a scowl. “Alright, I’m done. This is ridiculous. What is this really about, Melinda?”

“Like I said, it’s a test,” she shot back. “One, that like so many other things, you are failing.” She let the sword fall loosely to her side, regarding him with scoffing contempt. “You’re not even trying.”

His scowl darkened. “I don’t think you’ll like it when I do.”

Then, without warning, he threw the staff straight at her unguarded face.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and long time, no see. Sorry that this chapter is bit shorter than usual but it's all I have at the moment and I thought that after such a long absence (on a cliffhanger) I should put something out.
> 
> And leave it on another cliffhanger. 0_o
> 
> Without getting too much into personal stuff, my job isn't going to exist in few months. I'm redundant. There's been a heck of a lot of stuff happening in the lead up to this and it isn't wholly unexpected, but thems the breaks. I'll be fine. In fact, another reason for my absence is that I got a new job (!) one I've been trying to get for 5 years. However, that's only a casual role and I need to start job hunting soon. But at least jury duty pays.
> 
> So writing had been a non-thing for a while. And I miss it. But even when I've had time, I haven't been able to let go of my stress to get much down (I wrote a chapter and it was BAAADDD). Knowing my fate had calmed me down, even though that fate is not fantastic, and the past week has given me this. So hopefully more soon.
> 
> I super want to keep on writing this fic. It was never meant to be anything more than a funny one-shot, but then some people asked for more and now I'm invested - I have PLANS! Please bear with me.
> 
> Thanks so much for your patience! x


	17. Chapter 17

 

Phil Coulson wasn't the type to anger quickly, or to hold onto that anger. He had witnessed first hand too many instances where a person’s rage had consumed them to the determinate of all, and as a leader and a solider he could easily see the path of destruction that lay out before someone with less command of themselves. That didn’t mean that he never felt that hot emotion, he was still only human after all, it was just that he was very careful never to let it grow beyond his control or dictate his actions.

Right now, however, he was struggling.

He was hot and sweaty under his heavy, ungainly coat that he had been forbidden to remove, his legs ached and he was winded, and the entire time he was floundering May floated around him like some untouchable, violent butterfly. He’d had no idea what to expect when he’d first received her strange summons and the longer this encounter went on his confusion had slowly morphing into frustration. He knew was that this whole sparring spectacle was most definitely not just a test of his skills but some sort of malicious game, one that May was doing nothing to conceal her enjoyment of. And it was this that finally lead him to an unpleasant revelation.

Too late, Coulson was beginning to realise exactly how _angry_ May was with him.

It was a subtle, quiet thing, something that he only now could see had been burning in her much longer than he’d realised. As he danced around her, trying his best to deflect rather than attack, his mind raced like lightning as it slowly dawned on him exactly what his misstep had been. It almost felt like one of their many games of Maces and Talons where he was only just now beginning to understand what previous mistakes lead to his current predicament. He winced. Maces and Talons.  The primary method he’d been employing in an effort to keep Melinda at arms length, something he could now see as a clumsy attempt to both keep her amused and amiable while he himself hid. He had assumed that, regardless of whatever mutual appreciation they might have of each other, a shallow partnership based on intellect and protocol would be enough for a state marriage and that Melinda would have no need or want to ask him for more. It appeared now that he had misjudged.

But why was she so angry? What could be the core of this violent rage? That he didn’t share himself with her? That despite his own bubbling feelings he was trying to uphold his agreement in the marriage, that it would only ever be in name only? Why did she seem to be so entitled to his own private self when they had both known from the beginning that his soul was never part of this bargain?

Coulson felt wrong footed both mentally and physically but surprisingly, dangerously, he found that instead of keeping a cool head and trying to find a way to talk himself out of this mess, resentment had started to build.

It was the fight he wasn’t prepared for and didn’t fully understand. A cleaver tactic that he had to admire, but one that was currently pushing his frustration to resentment that was slowly starting to mutate into an anger that would match hers. An anger she seemed intent on feeding as she slowly beat him down with her hands and her words.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then we’re playing by different rules.”

Faster than thought Melinda struck out again, winding him and driving him once more to his knees as she darted about him, untouchable. He didn’t break. But he could now feel his own boiling temper just barely under control. This was childish! Foolish! She must be aware that he was restraining himself for fear of doing the _queen_ harm and seemed to be taking unfair advantage of that. On the follow-up attack he finally allowed himself to push back, to warn her of his actual strength. Maybe he could shock her into dropping this ridiculous spectacle.

But to his shock, she just looked pleased. Like the game had finally become enjoyable.

He couldn’t help himself. No more double speak or polite deflections. “Alright, I’m done. This is ridiculous. What is this really about, Melinda?”

Her answer dripped with venom. “Like I said, it’s a test, one that like so many other things, you are failing.” She let the sword fall loosely to her side, regarding him with scoffing contempt. “You’re not even trying.”

He felt his face harden, his temper and — _gods help him_ — his _pride_ finally at breaking point. _That’s it. You want a fight? Lets fight._ “I don’t think you’ll like it when I do.”

He then launched the staff straight at head like he was throwing a spear.

An unconventional tactic and one that carried the very real threat of harm, even using a dummy version of a quarterstaff, but Coulson was now beyond caring. He felt a nasty gratification as he saw May’s eyes widen a split second before she tried to both move out of the way and bring her sword up to deflect the oncoming blow. In both respects, she only just failed.

May cried out as the staff struck her shoulder but before she could even think of placing her feet in a countermove, Coulson was already there, one hand grabbing at the fabric around her dress collar while another viciously clamped around her wrist, iron-like fingers finding the soft underside of her arm and driving between the delicate tendons there, causing her to scream out in sudden pain as her hand reflexively opened and the sword fell uselessly to the floor. He then twisted around her body, his knee in her back as he once again flipped her, although this time instead of a gentle throw away, he purposefully slammed her into the ground.

 _There! Finished!_ “I said you wouldn’t — _ooomph_!”

He didn’t even see it coming, but suddenly _he_ was the one on his back. Laying on the ground, winded and in pain, May had still somehow managed to kick his legs out from underneath him. Then she was on top of him and a series swift, sharp jabs in his gut that he only felt, never saw, sent a ripple of agony through him before he managed to throw her off him, launching to his feet at the same time she managed to rise to hers. For a split second the two stared wildly at each other. Then, as one, they attacked.

It was a brutal dance of fists and feet, a series of split second blocks and well timed blows that left them both aching and feral, the false weapons now forgotten as they brawled like common urchins, grappling and twisting in a vicious, savage duel. At one point May latched onto his jacket and he used this momentum to throw both her and the cumbersome garment off, yet could barely have a moment to revel in the freedom of movement and the cool breeze on his sweat-soaked back before she hurled the jacket away and pivoted neatly on one foot to kick at his face.

They both lost track of time, of who exactly was winning this match, of even the reasoning behind this fight. But the haze of battle lifted for just a moment when Coulson managed to briefly get the upper hand against May, and now had her in a locked hold that she was currently struggling to be free from. Her back was pressed flush against his front as he held one of her arms at a nasty angle that prevented free movement with one hand while the other locked his forearm against her throat. Not enough to cut off the airway, but more than enough to threaten. It was then that something chimed deep within Coulson’s mind and it was suddenly as if he were standing outside of himself watching the fight as a stranger, and what he saw unnerved him. How they were both snarling, bruised, even a little bloodied in some places. How Coulson now held a squirming, spitting May hard against him, how the two of them had somehow ended up at this point where they were both hurt and angry and so very unsure of how to fix whatever it was between them. An undignified and dangerous situation if anyone were to discover them, although he was fairly certain May would have put precautions in place to prevent such a thing.

And suddenly, he didn’t want to fight anymore. This was going to accomplish nothing. However, despite this revelation he didn’t release May just yet as he was now fully aware of the extent of her abilities and knew full well that he only had the upper hand because of a minor mistake on her part, not a clever move on his.

“Stop! Melinda, just stop!” he pleaded, his mouth close to her ear, strands of her hair becoming caught on his lips. She paused in her struggles for a moment and while she was still stiff against him he took this as a good sign. “Let us cease this nonsense and speak. At least pretend that we’re rational adults.”

She tensed even more. “Why? I thought you enjoyed games.”

That caught him off guard. “What on earth do you mean?”

With a powerful wrench May finally threw him off, tripping him and throwing him onto his back so she stood above him, fists clenched. “I mean, Coulson, that you seemed far more comfortable when the game was restricted to the board, but now that it’s more of a physical threat, now that there might be real world consequences, now you’ll finally _speak_ to me.” An unexpected crack of raw emotion ran through those last few words and right through Coulson’s heart, just as she pulled back one fist and made ready for another attack.

He had rolled over so he was now balancing on one elbow, but made no move to rise. He felt like he was balancing on a knife’s edge. His mind was full of nothing but theories with no certain outcomes as he at last saw something beneath her anger. There was a pain, a different kind of hurt that he wasn’t used to. An aching loneliness that was reaching out for him, a loneliness he couldn’t answer. Because this marriage wasn’t real. It was a mission.

His mind stopped.

It was _his_ mission.

It was _her_ marriage.

_Did she …? Could she …?_

“Melinda …” he breathed out. She didn’t hear him. She was simply focused on her fist’s destination.

All this, he felt within a heartbeat. And in the next, he’d made his decision.

He didn’t move to meet her attack, to deflect or defend. He didn’t move at all. Anything else would just prolong this already too far gone battle. He might regret it, but he knew he’d regret raising another hand to her more.

 _Enough_.

Melinda’s fist contacted his head with shocking force, snapping it to the side with a sickening crack that sent him sprawling, his ears ringing, his vision white. He groaned as he pressed his forehead into the soft mat, squeezing his eyes shut as the world spun on a crazy axis. He tasted blood.

 _Well Phil, you've done stupider things._ As the noise in his ears subsided he noticed that there was a deathly quiet hanging about them now as he dared to look up.

Melinda was standing there, frozen. She seemed astounded, confused, scared. Her eyes were wide with shock, there were spots of colour sitting high on her cheekbones, and her carefully styled hair was now hanging in dishevelled wisps that framed her face.

And just like that, the last of Phil’s anger drained away.

Melinda’s voice trembled. “What the hell was that?”

Phil shook his head, then groaned again at the movement. Damn, she could hit. “The end. I’m not doing this. You win.”

She was already shaking her head, her jaw clenched. “No. No, you don’t get to decide that.”

“You can’t make me fight,” he countered, slowly getting to his knees but no further. He smiled wryly. “Well, you can. You did. But no more.”

Melinda was breathing hard. Her eyes were now overly bright and Phil suddenly had the crazy urge to gather her up in his arms. “Get up.”

“No.”

“Fight!” she cried as she rushed at him, raising her hands again … before halting as Phil made no move to rise from his knees.

“I won’t,” he said simply. “If this is a test, then I choose to fail rather than suffer a death by a thousand blows, Specially when you won’t even tell me why.”

She blinked. “Why?”

“Why the anger, Melinda?” he asked, his voice soft and low. “I can see now that you’re upset with me but I don’t —”

“Oh, you think this is about _you_?” she scoffed, tossing her head yet backing away from him at the same time, avoiding his gaze.

“About our marriage, then,” he pressed, now talking to her back. “This … political show piece we both agreed to. We said we’d be civil, maybe even friendly, and we are. I don’t know where this ire is coming from.” 

Her head dropped and to his surprise, a small sad laugh escaped her. “Oh … I except it’s coming from the same place yours did when you first arrived at Moruya.”

This threw him. Phil’s mind flew back to his first night at the castle, of the beauty of the beginning of the whiteout, of how he’d come to meet Melinda in a darkened hallway, of how she’d taken his hand … of Daisy’s rage at being presumed to being his mistress, of his own resentment of Melinda’s silence during the journey there, silence that was designed to cut him from her life.

 _Oh._ She felt that he was cutting her out of his life. And the awful thing was, she was right. He was cutting her out, he had to. This was all becoming too dangerous for him, too close to the bone, too near to him compromising his mission. But in the process of preserving his goals he’d completely misjudged Melinda’s own feelings on the subject and now … now things were already messy. And to clean it up would be to him like cauterising a wound.

“You think … I’ve been avoiding you?” he asked slowly.

“Think?” she repeated, turning back to him. “Don’t pretend like you don’t spend every moment in my presence planning on a way of escaping it. That I don’t see the mask.” Her face fell and the exposed look of anguish felt like a stab wound. “You act as though you were ashamed of this marriage.”   

And there it was. An opening. He hung his head and almost too quietly to hear said, “I am.”

Melinda went rigid. “What?”

He looked up at her. “I am ashamed. How can I not be? I’m ashamed of what I am, of what I’ve done to you, to your name, to your house. And most of all, I’m ashamed that I … that I’ve found myself … enjoying all that is now given to me. I never had much and now I have a bounty beyond my wildest dreams and …” Here he faltered, the truth now rising painfully to his skin. “And I have the privilege of knowing you, of being with you under the guise of being your husband … but also knowing that I can _never_ be. Not truly. And … and I don’t know how to be this … how to do this … how to be detached from a _mess_ that I have never dealt with before. I’m ashamed that I can’t be what you need me to be.”

Melinda hadn’t moved. Tears now stood in her eyes yet her voice remained steady. “You never asked me what I needed from you. You made sure we never talked.”

Phil swallowed against the painful lump in his throat. “Because I was afraid of what it might mean if I did.”

She nodded tightly and began to pace. Slow, even steps. “I think I’m beginning to understand you.  Your uncertainty of what exactly is happening between us. Your guilt, when you think of everything you now have. That you might have …” She turned back to face him, eyes clear, face fierce. “But now you need to understand _me_. You can not leave me alone to face this new, dangerous world just because you think it may simplify your own … _mess_. Not because I am unused to the solitude. I was alone for a long time before I met you. But because that is what you _promised_ to do. You can not half-commit to something like this, switching personalities because you feel a personal uncertainty, shielding yourself from your duties and _me_ because _you’re_ afraid. You are my husband. My partner, my council, my right hand. So either you act like it, all the way … or you keep out of my life entirely.”

“I don’t want that,” said Phil, his voice small, his heart thumping harder now than it ever did during the fight. The words slipped out before he could check them and they were nothing but pure truth. _Foolish, foolish … shut up now before you dig yourself deeper._ But he couldn’t stop. The idea that she would totally cut him from her life lit a panicked little fire in his gut that he wished he could say was on behalf of the mission, but knew in his heart of hearts was absolutely not. “I don’t … being here, knowing you … I … Melinda …” He trailed off helplessly. “I don’t want that at all.”

Painful seconds dripped by as she regarded him coolly. “I do believe this is the least eloquent I’ve ever seen you with words,” she said at last. “Yet, at the same time, the most honest.” With a grace that no battle physical or emotional could erase, Melinda glided back over to stand in front of Phil’s kneeling figure and for a moment all the two did was stare at each other. Both bruised and raw. Then she extended her hand. “It’s not much, but at least we finally have something real to build on.”

_Real. Almost. Not quite. But maybe enough._

Without his eyes ever leaving hers Phil gently took her hand and got to his feet. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out. Dangerous, dangerous, but he couldn’t help it. Everything was becoming too much. “I thought I wouldn’t care. Or if I did, that I wouldn’t burden you with it. But I do.” His hand tightened on hers and, to his shock, she squeezed his back. “I care,” he repeated roughly. “And I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Well, you’re going to have to learn,” said Melinda a tad breathlessly. “Because I am not spending weeks on the road with someone who can not hold even the faintest conversation with me because he doesn’t know what to do with his feelings.”

And there it was. Out in the open. Acknowledged. He ignored it. Small steps. She would understand that at least.

Instead, he said, “On the road? Did I actually pass the test?”

“No,” she answered swiftly and a real, beautiful smile curled the corner of her lips. “No-one ever does. But that doesn’t mean you’re not coming. You’re not going to get out of this.”

Phil experienced the strangest sensation. One that was both logical elation and emotional devastation. And through all that, he managed a weak smile back.

“No. I am not.”

 

* * *

 

Hours later, deep within the dark of the evening, Phil sat like a statue at his desk. Arms folded, staring at a map of Trillieon. At their defences. Figuring out which ones would be the easiest to take over should the need arise. Like he was supposed to do.

His eyes moved. They wandered, almost against his will, to where his shirt was now half hanging off the bedding. The shirt he had fought in. His new, expensive shirt. There was now sweat and blood on his fancy new shirt. Stained and ruined.

He looked back down at the map. Or tried to. Instead, his gaze fell upon the small ornate box that held the consort’s signet ring. For a moment, he stared.

Then with a vicious sweep he threw everything off his desk, a snarl twisting his face.

Too close. Too close. Too much had come to the surface today, too many wretched half-truths that were now eating away at him more than ever. He’d told Fury this wasn’t the kind of work he enjoyed. He’d never dreamed of exactly how bad it could get.

 _I_ am _ashamed._ He found himself thinking everything he couldn’t say, eyes closed head bowed as if in prayer. _I’m so ashamed that I delight in your company when I know that there is a future where I will betray you. I’m ashamed that I made you to trust me again, that I let you know that I care and_ gods in hell, _I am so ashamed that you seem to now care about me too. You shouldn’t. And I shouldn’t want you to. But I do. I do._

_I despise myself._

A soft, firm knock jolted him from this spiral. It wasn’t so late yet that a visitor would be out of the question but he wasn’t expecting anyone. In fact, when Daisy had sought him out after his meeting with Melinda, he’d made it clear that he needed the night alone. When he opened the door he was surprised and exasperated to find Gonzales on the other side, stoic as always with a hint of something else in his expression that Phil couldn’t quite define, but definitely didn’t like.

Phil didn’t bother with the niceties. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m simply wanted to wish you safe journeys,” replied Gonzales smoothly, seemingly amused by Phil’s abruptness.

“We don’t leave for another week.”

“I know. But I shan’t be here for that. Business in the nearby village of Candelo.”

“Well, thank you for your wishes, but if you don’t mind,” said Phil curtly, trying to shut the door in his face. Gonzales quickly jammed his cane in the way and held it open.

“Yes, I supposed we should be speaking more plainly, seeing as how we unfortunately have such little private time,” said Gonzales, his voice now low and menacing. “But let me be clear: I know there is more to this marriage than what you or Fury say.”

“Oh is that so?” Phil’s lip curled contemptuously, not because of his innocence — he had none — but because he knew that if Gonzales had anything more than a feeling about this, he would’ve been thrown in the dungeon weeks ago. He was bluffing.

“I don’t know what it is, but I know a dishonest man when I see one. And now you’re to journey to the regional townships with the most important person in the domain. All this away from my supervision.”

“And that bothers you?”

Gonzales smile was like a razor. “Well … I’m guessing I like idea of you being alone with my queen just as much as you _thrill_ in the thought of me being all alone with your protege.”

Phil felt an unpleasant heat rise on the back of his neck. “Skye’s more than capable of looking after herself.” And it was the very second the word was out of his mouth he’d realised his mistake.

Gonzales pounced on it. “ _Skye_?”

“A nice-name the soldiers had for her,” he said quickly. Maybe too quickly. Either way, Gonzales’ smile only deepened and that’s all it took. He was tired, his face hurt and his heart even more, and now this man was even thinking about threatening his daughter? He suddenly lashed out and grabbed Gonzales by the front of his shirt, bundling the fabric in a fist and pulling upwards to bring the man off his balance. To his immense satisfaction Gonzales’ eyes widen in surprise. Finally. A reaction. “You want to speak plainly? Fine. You even think about touching a hair on Daisy’s head and no force, no vows or oaths in this realm or the next will be able stop me from raining all sorts of hellfire down upon you and anyone you care about.” He then threw Gonzales away from him, causing the older man to stumble back a little. “Do we have an understanding?”

To his credit, Gonzales recovered himself very quickly. He rightened himself in an instant and stared coldly at Phil. “I think I will be much too busy to bother with some Inhuman, regardless of who’s favour she’s in.” His eyes flickered to the side of Phil’s face, a ghost of his smirk back. “That looks like it’s turning into quite a nasty bruise. Hope it was worth it.”

And with that he walked off into the darkened corridor, leaving Phil to stew in his impotent fury and the horrible, dawning sensation that he’d just made a dreadful mistake.

 

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

“And a-one, two, three … one, two, three …”

Jemma’s melodic voice mingled sweetly with the metallic chimes of a music box as she called out a pacing rhythm that Daisy was trying her best to follow. Coulson was standing next to her, arms folded, face neutral, and a look in his eyes that Daisy wasn’t overly sure she appreciated. Opposite her, one hand on her waist and the other loosely cupped around her own, Fitz was the very picture of calm as he slowly paced his way through the steps of a traditional Trillieon dance, while Daisy herself could feel her jaw clenched almost to the point of pain as she awkwardly struggled to avoid Fitz’s toes.

To his credit, he barely flinched when she again stepped forwards rather than backwards and,  again, crunched his foot under hers.

“Sorry, sorry!”

“It’s okay.” He even managed a smile. “We’ve both done endured worse whenever we’ve sparred.”

“Yes, but that was always the goal. Kind of.” Daisy gritted her teeth and again tried to keep to the steps she’d been learning all afternoon, ignoring the fact that Jemma now looked like her face was about to start spasming from the grin she was suppressing. Daisy and Fitz stepped away from one another, one hand held as they gracefully split before coming back together in what was supposed to be a simple twirl — that was quickly followed by a soft ‘oomph’ on Fitz's behalf as Daisy accidentally elbowed him in the stomach.

“Oh gods, _sorry_!”

“You know, it isn’t actually the goal to hurt your partner when you spar either,” was all he said conversationally, if a little winded.

“Depends on how annoying you were being beforehand,” she shot back. When he laughed she sent a cheeky grin over to where Jemma and Coulson were watching. A grin that only Jemma answered, her face finally relaxing. Coulson, however, remained as impassive as ever and as she more closely examined him she noticed that for some reason he now had that caged look that Daisy usually associated with bad news. Her smiled faded but before she could ask him what was wrong, he spoke as if nothing were amiss.

“That’s your problem right there, Daisy,” he said, more liked an instructor than a friend. “This is not a battle, it’s a dance. There are patterns to follow, organisation and timings and, more importantly, a partner you must work with, not against. You’re not in a backyard fight. You must apply yourself seriously.”

A tiny line formed between her brow as she slowly untangled herself from Fitz, confused. “I’m not … trying to fight …” It was more of a question than a statement, and not a question about his so-called advice either. There had been this strange tension in the room ever since they began their rather impromptu dance lessons, where three-quarters of the group viewed the activity with childish foolery while the last of the party was a somber as the wiseman in a cave.

“No need to take these lessons too seriously, Coulson,” said Fitz, his smile only somewhat strained. “At least not for Daisy’s sake. She’s got plenty of time to work on her steps before the banquet, so really, there’s no need to fuss.”

Coulson blinked, seemed to only just then recognise what he’d said. “I didn’t mean … I just think you _are_ treating this too much like sparring, that’s all.”

“Well, maybe I am,” she answered, unsure as to why this line of conversation was beginning to bother her so much. “But it’s all I’ve ever really known. You never taught me to dance.”

Before Coulson could reply Jemma, always abhorred by conflict, cut across.

“Actually Coulson, it’s your steps we need to focus on. You’re a quick study, but lets run over the Ice Maiden’s Waltz one more time, just for surety.” She quickly plucked up the music box, twisted the key at the side vigorously to reset it, and then took a placid Coulson by the hand out onto the floor. Fitz and Daisy retreated to the sides and watch as Jemma and Coulson glided smoothly across the floor, Coulson prone to the odd misstep that came from a lack of knowledge rather than  lack of skill.

Daisy sighed and crossed her arms as she watched them — or more specifically, him. At first she had explained away Coulson’s vague reluctance to this light lesson as a result of the now imminent departure of his first official royal tour, set for the next morning. Everything had been readied, packed, supplied. The first of the Royal Guard had been sent out just that morning to clear the path and a rider had left weeks earlier to send word to the nobel houses, so that they had time to prepare for the Queen’s arrival. After weeks of steady but painstaking work, in the final few hours they had been gifted a reprieve, a little bit of fun as they learned yet another new Trillieonian tradition.

Daisy had actually been enthusiastic about these lessons, even though she possessed no dancing skills and never before had any need to learn them. But with Jemma and Fitz teaching her she had rather thought that the lesson would’ve been a chance at some official fun and had hoped that it also would’ve done something to bring Coulson out of whatever slump he’d fallen into, ever since his sparring match with May.

He’d told her all about it the morning after when she’d taken one look at his bruised face and let loose a yelp of surprise, and while she wouldn’t fully admit to agreeing with the queen’s tactics, she could definitely see where they were coming from. Everyone had known of Coulson’s carefully constructed distance between himself and May, and had all been at a loss as to explain why this was. Daisy herself probably knew more than most but even she couldn’t understand why Coulson was so reluctant to open up to the woman he was now married to.

She said as much that morning.

 

_“Well, if you will leave a bad situation to fester, you probably shouldn’t complain when someone eventually needs to beat sincerity out of you. Really, Coulson? What goals were you trying to achieve with such cold mannerisms?”_

_Coulson didn’t answer, only gave her a hard look before he went back to applying the healing paste to his wounded eye, a paste Daisy had brought him and one she used frequently herself. Even without encouragement, she continued._

_“There’s been talk about it, you know,” she’d said. “Whispers and wonderings. Everyone can see it, that tension between you two.” At this Coulson shot another look her way, this one more questioning. “Oh please. You know what I speak of. Yes, this was an arranged marriage and yes,” she lowered her voice, “We are a little more interested in their defences than we’ve let on but really, when you look at it … you two are a good match. In things like temperament, interests and … other things …” Daisy grinned cheekily, yet Coulson remained as stoic as ever. She rolled her eyes. “Seriously. Why have you shown such an aversion to letting this relationship simply … grow?”_

_Coulson sighed, capping the paste jar. “Because I never expected it to get this far.”_

_Daisy frowned at this. It wasn’t quite an answer and strangely enough, it sounded rehearsed. As if this was something Coulson had been telling himself. “You never expected to actually like her?”_

_“No … no, I’ve always liked her,” he said, and for moment there was a faraway look in his eyes. “I  just never thought she’d …”_

_Daisy didn’t like the way that sentence just drifted off. “What, because she is just so high and lordly  you thought that she could never come to favour someone of your station?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Sure, she herself might’ve believed something similar in those early days, but now that she knew more of the queen she couldn’t even entertain such thoughts and was loathed to think that Coulson could. She really didn’t know where this self-pitying attitude was coming from, if it was the result of hurt pride or an actual hurt face, but it was so painfully unnatural that she was beginning to worry. “You can’t believe that. Truthfully, tell me Coulson,” she got up to stand in front of him, forcing his eyes to meet hers. “Tell me — what is it about growing closer to May that you fear so much?”_

_His face was like stone as he pushed the jar into her hands and opened the door of his chambers in a clear dismissal. “Thank you for the paste, Daisy.”_

_As much as she wanted to, she knew not to push it. However, just before the door closed she allowed herself the final word. “I can’t pretend to know what’s going on with you, but … it’s okay to allow yourself to be happy.”_

_He hadn’t responded._

 

Back in the present Daisy could still see the same stone-like tension seeping through the fluidity of the dance as Coulson and Jemma glided around the room, and was aware of a sympathy tension in both her own frame and Fitz’s. Almost as if on cue Fitz leaned down to murmur, “I thought you said Coulson liked dancing.”

“He does. Usually.”

“He doesn’t look it now. I was hoping this would lighten him up a little before the tour.”

“Me too,” sighed Daisy, arms tightly folded across her chest.

“Any other plans?”

“Alcohol?”

“Any other good plans?”

“No.”

Daisy sighed again, more forcefully this time, and as she did her gaze was drawn to the large window that they were now standing in front of which, as well as having stunning views of the snowcapped vistas in the distance, also looked straight down into the stable yards. Over the past few days the yards had been a whirlpool of activity as they prepared the five carriages and three wagons needed for the journey but in these last few hours a similar restrained calm had come over them too, as most heavy work had been finished. As Daisy looked absentmindedly down, partly to distract herself from Coulson’s radiating awkwardness, she watched a few people crisscross the dirty, icy ground — before her breath froze in her throat. Her eyes widened. She couldn’t believe it. It was him. Walking across the yard to the stables, the heavy leather jacket standing out starkly against the grey snow, was the man she’d meet at Moruya. The man who’d told her that she wasn’t the only Inhuman in the domain.

She was three stories up, looking down through a frosted window, appearing only as a vague shadow to those on the ground. Yet. For some reason. The man paused. He looked about himself  curiously, as if he’d heard someone call his name, before suddenly turning around to look straight up, straight at the window. At Daisy. His black eyes bore into hers and for the longest moment all that mattered in this world was the fact that she could see him and he could see her. Then, with an expression that was indecipherable, he turned away and continued into the stables and out of sight.

Daisy let loose a whoosh of air she didn’t even know she’d been holding, turning back to face the room just as the last notes of the music box reached the drawn out end. No-one else had noticed anything amiss with her, hamming home the fact that that moment had actually been much shorter than what she’d felt. Jemma and Coulson were gracefully finishing their waltz and Fitz was just beginning to unfold his arms as he said, “Well Daisy, do you want to try another —”

“No!" she said instantly, shocking everyone in the room. “Uh … I … have to not be here right now, I  just remembered. I have to be … elsewhere. So … yeah …” Even as she spoke she was edging herself towards the door as three pairs of bewildered eyes followed her. “And, like you said Fitz, I’ve got plenty of time to learn, don’t I? Yeah, plenty. So …”

And then she was out the door.

Back in the ballroom Fitz and Jemma turned to Coulson. Once he realised they were both looking to him for answers, he just threw up his hands and shrugged.

 

* * *

 

Daisy wasn’t quite running, but she definitely wasn’t taking a leisurely pace either. She had no idea why this stranger was at the castle and also had no idea when he was going to leave. Maybe he’d entered the stables to prepare from his homeward journey? She might not have a particularly wide window to catch him before he left.

His face and his cryptic words had been swimming quietly around her mind these past few weeks and she had desperately longed for some pretence to return to Moruya and talk once again. But preparation of the tour combined with untenable weather had made any more visits an impossibility and she’d had to content herself with the mystery. Now it seemed as if the stars had heard her thoughts and brought him to her when she could not come to him. Maybe. If she wasn’t too late. She picked up her pace.

When she burst out onto the yard she nearly lost her feet out from underneath herself as she hit the slushy ice much faster and harder than was safe, such was her haste to reach the stables. Her arms pinwheeled frantically for a moment before she stabilised herself, heart pounding wildly for an entirely different reason as she stood stock still in the grey ice for a moment. Then, squaring her shoulders, she thrust a hand out in front of her and proceeded to quake the ice out of the way. The tiny water-crystals vibrated and pushed against each other at a microscopic level until the whole mess of water, dirt and ice shook and sloshed like a thick wave before parting, leaving a clear path between Daisy and the stables. She allowed herself a smile, always happy to actually use her abilities even in something as mundane as that, and rushed to the building on the other side of the court.

A wave of warm air rolled over her as she entered, pungent with the smell of hay and horses. Queen May’s stables may not have been as grand as some that Daisy had visited previously but they were still large, well set out and accommodating for both machinery, beast and man. The large hall-like structure had been divided into sections for the carriages and wagons, for the horses  and for the storage of stock in the winter months. She found herself in the section with the horses and even though the lighting was somewhat dimmed and yellow in the late afternoon she still spotted him in an instant. At the far end of the room, attending to a large black horse, was the stranger.

As she allowed new light and fresh air to pour in behind her, he looked up. He didn’t exactly freeze when he saw her, but rather took on a certain stillness that Daisy usually associated with a warrior unsure if they whether or not to prepare for battle, yet still readying themselves nonetheless. He kept casually stroking the side of the horses’ neck, his gentle movements in stark contrast with his hard, black eyes.

Daisy steeled herself and then started forward — then halted when a familiar voice called out her name.

“Daisy? What are you doing down here?”

She blinked and turned to look through the large doorway that connected to the next room where the carriages were held. Standing just on the other side was a confused Lady Rodriguez.

Daisy was so surprised she accidentally blurted out, “What are _you_ doing here?” All the while keeping one eye of the stranger.

Lady Rodriguez’s confusion deepened at this reply. “We’re here for the final inspection of the carriages, Daisy. And yourself?”

“I … um …” Daisy was doing her best not to look directly at the stranger, but to try and keep him in her peripheral. From where she was standing Lady Rodriguez could not see down and into the horses stables, and Daisy was doing her best not to draw attention to whom she came to see. She had a feeling he wouldn’t like that. “I, um, needed to get out, have a walk around. You know how cramped that, uh, massive castle can get. And … I like horses.”

Lady Rodriguez raised one perfect eyebrow. “You … like horses?”

“Yes,” said Daisy firmly. It wasn’t really a lie. She didn’t _dislike_ horses. Suddenly she registered what the Lady had actually said. “Wait. Who’s ‘we’?”

Just like the Lady couldn’t see into where Daisy was standing, she couldn’t see anything more of the carriage houses than the Lady. So it was another shock when Queen May herself stepped into view, just next to the Lady.

“Hello, Daisy,” she said mildly. “I hear you like horses?”

“Well … I wouldn’t say I’m an enthusiast,” she dragged out. Out the corner of her eye she could just see the stranger move. Raise a hand to his face, maybe? “But you know, anything to get out and about. Get some fresh air.” She winced even as she said it, the thick scented air of the stables  clinging to everyone present. The stranger convulsed. Was he … _laughing_?

May wasn’t laughing but at least seemed amused, while the Lady was now more than a little suspicious. “Truthfully, Daisy,” Rodriguez said sharply. “Why are you here?”

“Just what I said.” Daisy doubled down. “I was getting claustrophobic in there and decided to get out for a bit. I like horses as much as anyone and thought I’d have a peak in, seeing as how I’ve rarely been here before. Expect, you know. The first day.” It was a low and cheap tactic, but she hoped that by reminding them of how they’d left herself and Coulson to stable their own horses when they’d first arrived, she could throw them off their balance a little and gain some kind of privacy.

It only worked in part. While Lady Rodriguez blanched at the reminder, the May simply smiled knowingly and for a terrifying moment, beyond all logic, Daisy was sure the queen knew exactly why she had come to the stables. But instead of calling her out on it, the queen merely turned to the Lady and said, “Elena, I am quite satisfied with the arrangements. As always, everything is wonderfully in order. Shall we proceed back to the high chambers?”

“Yes, majesty,” said the Lady in reflex, although she still looked upon Daisy distrustfully.

Daisy’s heart pounded as they moved from the carriage room to the horses stables. She was careful to move herself in such a way that the Queen and Lady had their backs to the far end where the stranger was now readying his horse for departure. Now that she was able to get another good look at him she was maddened to discover that he indeed was laughing at her, his cold stare now gentled by the soft curl to his lips. Daisy wasn’t sure which she preferred.

“Oh, look Elena,” exclaimed the Queen in an exaggerated way. “Seems like Daisy was so keen to see the horses she cleared a path to the stables to make things easier.”

“Seems to me a trivial use of such powers,” observed Lady Rodriguez flatly.

“Unless there’s something … or some _one_ … of great importance to see.” Now May fixed her stare on Daisy, who could feel the heat rising up her neck and onto her face. May lowered her voice now so it didn’t carry anymore. No-one else could hear them. “Now, Daisy. You didn’t come here for the horses. That’s obvious. You came for him.”

Daisy felt as if her heart left her body. Her answer came weak and breathless. “I … I don’t know what …”

“I saw you two,” said the Queen bluntly. “When we visited Moruya. I saw the two of you chatting away.” Daisy felt a warning heat in her hands. A vibration in her bones. “I’m not surprised you were in such a rush to come down and speak to him again. He is, after all, very handsome.”

It was like blowing out a candle. “Pardon?”

May smiled indulgently. “His name is Robert Reyes, and he’s a very capable blacksmith and horse-master. Usually we have enough staff to cover our needs but with this tour a few more hands were required. However, now that everything’s been seen to he’ll be heading back to Moruya soon.” Her smile deepened. “Good thing your love of horses got you down here so quickly.”

Daisy had absolutely nothing to say to this.

Luckily, May appeared so smug in her discovery of Daisy’s apparent crush that she didn’t seem to expect an answer, taking Daisy’s flummoxed silence as confirmation of her romantic suspicions. As she and Lady Rodriguez swept past her to take the quaked out path back to the castle, May paused as something occurred to her.

“Oh, one more thing, Daisy. The dance lessons. How were they?”

“Fantastic,” said Daisy, her mind still reeling and not at all focused on dancing. “I could really feel the flow of it all.”

May pulled a face and Daisy was struck by how suddenly childish she appeared. “Well, I’m glad you liked it. I hate dancing.”

Now it was Daisy’s turn for a knowing smirk. “Really? That’s a pity, because Coulson loves it.”

That pulled May up short. She hesitated, looking back over her shoulder. “Truly?”

“Oh yes. He’s rather good at it, too.”

May raise one brow at this, but said nothing more as she took her leave. Lady Rodriguez also paused, her gaze hard on Daisy, but likewise said nothing before following her queen back to the castle. As soon as she was able to Daisy let loose a massive breath as relief set in, before she scrunched up her face uncomfortably at the though that the queen now believed she had a little crush on the stranger. Robert Reyes. She turned back to face him where he was still readying his horse, yet at such an idle rate that she got the impression that he was actually waiting for her.

She wasted no more time getting to him. “Hello again, Robert.”

“Everyone else calls me Robbie,” he said, without looking at her. “You might as well, too.”

“Okay. Robbie.” She folded her arms and leant against the side of the pen where the horse was being held. It was a massive stallion, strong, very well kept, and it stood between herself and Robbie. “Have long have you been here?”

“Just since yesterday. And since I know what you’re going to be asking next —” He poked his head around the horse to look at her directly. “Yes. I have been avoiding you.”

“Why?”

He shrugged and went back to fixing the saddle. “I didn’t want it to be known that we two know each other. There’s some around here who might be a little too interested in that. But since your infatuation with me seems to be a well known fact, I guess it’s a bit too late for subtilise.”

Daisy just fixed him with her most withering stare, deciding to ignore that last part. She dropped her voice. “Last time we met, you told me I wasn’t Trillieon’s first Inhuman.” He looked at her without answering. “But if that’s the case, why have there been no reports of such people?”

“No reports you know of.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that the queen is not omniscient, and there are plenty of people in Trillieon who are more devoted to the idea of her than to her own ideas.” Robbie pulled sharply at the last straps and turned to grab the bridle. “I’m guessing you’re getting nice and comfortable here, but make no mistake. To many in this castle, you’re still just Quake. A dangerous outsider. But outside these walls, to many people across the domain, you’re something else.”

Daisy could already feel the heat back in her skin but she still managed to ask, “And what’s that?”

Robbie paused in his movement, stepped fully away from the horse and really looked at her. There was something different to him this time, something soft and light and when he reached out to gently brush his hand against her arm she felt some of that lightness transfer to her. It wasn’t an attraction or even friendliness. It was something else, something less definable.

“Hope,” he said simply. “You’re bringing a lot of people out there hope.”

Then he dropped his hand and the moment passed.

He opened up the pen fully and began to calmly lead the horse out. Daisy knew their time was now almost over and yet she felt like she hadn’t even begun to learn anything new. “You said there were people around here who would become too interested in us knowing each other. If that’s such a worry, why even come?”

“Money,” said Robbie quickly, laughing a little. “You can’t be so lost in the luxuries of castle like that you’ve forgotten exactly what people will do for the gold.” His smile faded. “Honestly though, I don’t often come here, not even for pay. But Gonzales is currently away, and even though his lackys are more than likely still watching, at least he’s someone I don’t need to worry about.”

Daisy went cold at Gonzales’ name. “He hates me. We’ve barely spoken, but I know he hates me.”

“He hates what you are,” countered Robbie. “As he hates all Inhumans.”

“He’s never dealt with Inhumans.”

“Officially, no.”

“Robbie, stop.” They had just reached the entrance of the stables. While they had been inside it had just started snowing again. Large, wispy flakes were floating lazily down, creating a beautiful atmosphere without adding to the frost covering. She went to stand just in front of him, face to face, inches apart. “You say I’m not the only Inhuman, that I’m bringing some people hope. Where are these people? And why do they even need hope? Listen, I have been to some terrible places in the world, where rulers are shamefully powerful, petty and childish in their cruelty. Trillieon doesn’t seem that way to me and the queen herself is open to accepting Inhumans. She’s accepted me. If I’m guessing correctly, you’re telling me there’s Inhumans in hiding. Why? Why hide any longer?”

Robbie sighed as he looked down into her eyes, as if she were so close to understanding yet still painfully unaware. “Because fear is stronger than hope, and they have too much to fear.” He mounted his horse with shocking ease and sat in the saddle as if it were an extension of his body. “I’m sure the queen is lovely, but you will need to get out of the castle a bit more, I think, if you really want to learn about Trillieon.”

“I’ll do my best.” She stepped away, allowing him more space as he prepared to leave. “Safe travels home, Robbie Reyes. Hopefully you’ll be inside before it gets too cold.”

Funnily enough, his eyes twinkled a little at this remark, as if he found it hilarious. “Oh, the cold doesn’t bother me none.”

A new question popped into her mind and Daisy felt like such a fool for not asking this before. “Wait. Are you …?”

The twinkled turned into a full blown grin. “Daisy. You just said you were well travelled. Surely you should know that there’s far more things and beings in this world than most would believe?”

Then with a flick of the reins, he was gone.

 

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

The steely grey clouds hung heavy and textureless across the skies, making the day seem much later than what it was. The snow on the ground was old and spotted so that it allowed much of the bare earth to be seen, although there was an icy threat in the air that promised more to come and as much as their entourage was prepared for such weather, Melinda still hoped that they would reach their destination before it came to that.

They were close to the first overnight stop on their month long royal tour of Trillieon and so far, so good. They had left Moruya Castle in the dim hours of the morning to a small, official farewell party.  Melinda had never enjoyed overt ceremony where none was needed and didn’t see any reason to wake those who did not wish to stand in the sludge on a cold morning, just to wave goodbye to one who would soon return.

There was Lady Rodriguez and Mackenzie of course, as well as Morse who was now acting at the Head of the Guard while Gonzales was away. Jemma and Fitz were present too, as well as Daisy who seemed rather more somber than Melinda thought necessary. As they gathered in the shadowed light she favoured Coulson with a tight hug, and an almost child-like look of apprehension passed over her face. That confused Melinda a little, but she quickly dismissed it as a normal anxiety in one so painfully aquatinted with abandonment. There were no speeches, no grand farewell, just quiet moment between friends before the she climbed up into her carriage and Coulson took his place at the front of the procession, as the consort should. They left the castle before the sun rose and it was only by the time they reach Moruya that pure golden light had finally flooded the landscape, glinting off the snow in a way that dazzled and calmed, and had given Melinda a surprisingly light feeling in her chest. It was almost like a good omen, a favourable sign that this was to be prosperous journey. She had settled back in her carriage, alone, a well loved book on her lap that remained closed for the first few hours as she chose to simply enjoy the changing scenery instead.

However, by the time the midday hour had passed the weather had turned. Heavy clouds had rolled up from the south and while they just hung ominously overhead for now, the cold still air around them warned that a break wasn’t too far in the future. The effect was particularly stark as they now had just managed to leave the shelter of the mountains for the more flat terrain that took up so much of the horizon, yet at the same time freed the skies above them. Behind them, peaks. Before them, nothing but empty fields that were patiently waiting for warmer weather. And a thick, grey sky that seemed to take up too much space.

Thankfully they were just coming to their first stop, a tiny hamlet known as Merimbula. Little more than a large inn, two shops and a postmaster, it’s existence almost seemed unwarranted excepting for the fact that it was perfectly situated on the long road between Moruya and their first major stop, the larger city of Tullamore, and so it acted as both a refuge for travellers as well as catering to the many isolated homesteads that dotted the wide landscape.

As their entourage pulled into Merimbula the first large wisps of snow had started blowing about in a gradually building breeze. There was no sunset but Melinda could tell by the dimming light that it had already departed, if the grumbling of her stomach hadn’t already reminded her of the hour. She waited patiently as Coulson dismounted and came around to open her carriage door. Her mind briefly flickered back to her childhood complaints at being restricted to the carriage whenever she and her parents travelled, of how she longed to breath in fresh, cold air and ride on horseback with the rest of the Guard. There were still times when she yearned to re-write the rules when it came to protocol and simply open her own doors, but she had learnt long ago that these little acts of decorum weren’t really for her sake, but more for those watching.

Coulson was at her door momentarily, his cheeks and nose red from the cold and Melinda was reminded yet again at just how badly he handled Trillieon’s weather. While he made no mention of this as he gracefully held out his hand and helped her from the carriage, she still felt a drop of guilt slide down her throat when she thought of the relative warm and comfort she had almost scorned because she wished to be on horseback with the rest of the procession.

He seemed to pick up on her mood. “Is everything okay?”

“Fine,” she answered swiftly, squeezing his hand just before he tucked it into the crook of his arm. A perfect picture of propriety. “I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”

He seemed to accept this, nodding. “The first day of travel usually takes it out of you, before you’re able to settle into a pattern.” He winced a little as he stretched his back, his spine audibly popping. “I’ve been out of the saddle too long, and I’m feeling it. I think we’ll both sleep well tonight.”

Melinda murmured in agreement, musing at Phil’s changed mannerisms. Ever since their sparring session she had noticed the considerable effort he’d put into his behaviour around her, how he was now more forthcoming with what he was thinking or feeling and how he now really seemed to listen to everything she said, rather than just hear it. In a way, they seemed to have reset themselves. She felt like they had gone back to those early days of their marriage when he had first arrive din Trillieon, those quite, calm days of the whiteout. Still … she observed him out the corner of her eyes as the two of them approached the entrance to the inn. There was still something distant about him. Distant … and even maybe a little sad. But nevertheless he was still trying his best to meet her halfway and she in turn would give him what he needed from her. Time. Time enough for him to figure out how to reach her.

There were a small collection of townsfolk out the front of the inn, there to greet and welcome the entourage to Merimbula. Melinda let her arm slip from Phil’s as she went to speak with those gathered, small moments with those eager to catch a glimpse of something from a fairytale. From the throng a young man emerged, his smile shy yet wide as he greeted them.

“Majesty,” he said warmly as he took both her hands and bowed over them. “It is my greatest pleasure to welcome you back to Merimbula.” He released her hands to bow in deference to Coulson. “And to be here for your first visit, my lord.”

“We are most delighted to be back, Lincoln,” said Melinda kindly, before making introductions. “Coulson, this is Lincoln Campbell, who not only runs this fine establishment, but is also the physician to the people of Merimbula.”

Phil gave a shallow, polite bow in return. Not strictly necessary for a consort, but definitely an old habit from a solider used to frequently meeting new proprietors of various places. For some reason this old fashioned, respectful behaviour charmed Melinda, rather than embarrass her at Phil’s lack of natural hierarchy. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Campbell. I thank you for the use of your establishment.”

Lincoln blinked, a little take aback at Phil’s deference, but his smile stayed strong. He too seemed charmed, if a little hesitant. “Not at all. Please, come inside. We’ve already prepared dinner and it’s waiting for you in a private chamber. My people will see that everything is stabled and that your guards are taken care of.”

“Wonderfully efficient, as always Lincoln,” said Melinda with a smile as they were ushered indoors.

As they entered the large dining area of the Merimbula Inn a comfortable wave of warm air washed over them, as did the soft babble of a small congregation of townsfolk who were also gathered there. A babble that quickly died down as many heads turned to stare in wonder at the new arrivals. As hungry and fatigued as she was, Melinda still took her time greeting those who wished to come forward, treating idle curiosity and genuine queries with equal respect and attention. Phil followed her lead and also mingled with the townsfolk, chatting amiably for a while until neither of them could deny their need for rest. Also as if he had sensed it before they spoke it, Lincoln appeared at her side, gently disentangling them from the fascinated people and quietly ushering her and Phil towards a side door where a private parlour was already set up for dinner.

The door behind them closed with a comforting thud, shutting out the dulling the outside noise and allowing blessed peace to wash over them. Phil vocalised how she felt as he collapsed into his chair with a loud sigh, sprawling for a moment before he recollected himself and straightened somewhat guiltily, watching Melinda as she sat. She herself gave an easy smile and reached for the bread rolls that were still piping hot.

“I have a feeling you’re going to sleep _very_ well tonight,” she said as she buttered her roll.

“I agree.” In the firelight, he now looked truly exhausted. “It only really hit me when we came inside. You know how it can be? When you suddenly move from cold to hot and your body just decides that no matter what you might like, it’s going to shut down in an instant?”

“I do,” nodded Melinda. “But at least try to eat before you collapse.”

Phil started heaping food onto his plate, pausing to take a deep sip of wine. “I’m very much out of practice. It should be all muscle memory but … I think castle life made me softer much quicker than I anticipated.” He cricked his neck side to side, wincing. “And on top of all that, I think I’ve done something to my shoulders, or neck. Hell …” Once again he blinked, catching himself as he sent another contrite glance towards her. “I’m sorry. I’m complaining like an old man.”

“You _are_ an old man,” quipped Melinda, grinning as she ate.

“We’re the same age!”

“Only physically.”

He rolled his eyes at her and they both shared a smile. In a funny sort of way Melinda couldn’t feel too sorry for Phil’s fatigue. It loosed him up in a way he wouldn’t allow wine or his own conscious to, crumbling his walls and letting the two of them converse as friends, not as people playing an exhausting game.

For a while the two of them ate in silence. Melinda kept glancing at Phil and soon her appreciation at his more open state was replaced with a sliver of concern. His weariness seemed to be affecting him more than he showed, but if the slow manner in which he ate coupled with the same winces that flickered across his face as he shifted in his seat was any indication, he was probably more tired than he let on. As the plates slowly emptied and they both began to relax more with full bellies, Melinda spoke.

“Where exactly does it hurt? Your shoulders?”

Phil looked up, surprised. “Uh, yes. More like that awkward spot between my shoulder-blades, reaching over the top to the sides of my neck.”

“Funny place to strain from horseback riding,” said Melinda frowning.

“I think it’s probably my fault. Too much hunching.” When her frown deepened at the bizarre explanation Phil bunched up his shoulders, drew his neck down and widened his eyes in a pantomime of one who was shivering from the cold. She laughed at this, but then felt that earlier guilt rise again. Would it be too condescending to offer him a place in the carriage, she wondered?

Out loud she said, “It would be best to stretch out the muscles before bed tonight.”

“I know. I’m trying.” He grimaced as he demonstraited. “But it is in a difficult spot to reach.”

“Have you tried this?” Melinda placed her utensils down and placed her hands on her head, gently pulling his down and to the left so that her chin was now tucked and pointed at her collar bone. “It’s a slightly different stretch. You should feel a pull from behind your ear to the tip of your shoulder.”

Intrigued, Phil tried to replicate the movement. “Um … kind of?”

Melinda released herself and watched him. Even from sight alone, she could tell he wasn’t quite getting it. “It’s not so sideways. More like …” She paused, then rose from her seat to come to his side of the table. “May I?”

From his seat Phil looked up at her. He swallowed. “Of course.”

She gently took his head in her hands and started to pull it into place, careful to make sure she didn’t strain him but also firm enough that he should feel some sort of tension. He gave a low grunt as she helped him stretch out the tension in his shoulders.

“Oh, I see,” he murmured, the last little bit of tension in his body relaxing as he gave himself over to her ministrations.

From where she was standing over him Melinda couldn’t see his face, but she could feel how after the initial burn he started to loosen up and how his breathing slowly became deeper and even. After a few minutes of holding him in position she quietly said, “So now I’m going to do the other side.” After he gave a low hum of approval she carefully straightened his neck so for a moment she way looking back down at his face. His eyes were closed, his features slack. She had a feeling he could fall asleep at any moment. She pulled his neck to the other side, again hearing a pained noise before the burn of the stretch faded into a pleasant ache. They both kept very still against each other, breathing quietly in rhythm, the noises of the outside world fading to almost nothing. As she held him in the opposite position with her hands on either side of his head, she found the very tips of her fingers slowly moving almost as if of own volition, timidly tracing tiny little circles against his skulls, getting caught up in the fine wisps of hair. She had no idea when she’d started doing that or why, but she continued nonetheless. For some reason it gave her comfort. Peace. The act of helping Phil, even in such a small way was very …

She felt a small shiver run up and down her body as something began to tug against her skirts. When she glanced down she was astonished to see that Phil had ever so slightly begun to curl his fingers amongst the fabric of her dress, pulling it and by extension, her, closer towards him. Melinda felt another long tingle course through her body as his pull tightened her dress against her in a way that could almost be confining, yet instead felt so good. A heat began to rise within her, starting at her chest and extending up into her cheeks, her breath now shallow as if she were afraid that too much movement, even the act of breathing, would break whatever spell had bewitched them both.

She hadn’t realised she’d released the pull on his skull until he straightened, though his head was still bowed so she couldn’t see his face. Her hands a dropped from their duty and now rested lightly on each of his shoulders, the tips of her fingers still dancing out an unknowable pattern. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, his gasps coming like one who’d been running as apposed to her lighter ones. Slowly, slowly, he bunched more of her skirts to him as he leant ever so slightly forward to press his forehead into her stomach, the softest sigh escaping him as he did so as if he were experiencing some sort of great relief or exquisite pain. Melinda closed her eyes, her arms coming up to wrap around him as his curled around her legs, and she delighted in the feel of this, the weight, the warmth, the humming life force of Phil as he coiled around her. Gods, how long had it been since she’d simply been held like this? She felt another tremble within her but this time it had nothing to do the moment she was in, but rather the many moments that had come before. Long before. When she had first been married …

A sharp and sudden knock at the door made her feel as though she had been wrenched out of her skin — or rather, that she had fully come back to herself. She jerked herself out of Phil’s grip a little too quickly, his hands on her dress unable to free themselves in time and becoming tangled, causing her to stumble. Phil’s eyes snapped open and he stared at her like one awaken from a dream by a cold splash of water, dazed and confused and even a little hurt. She herself still felt unbalanced, unsure, the heat still in her face but now there was also a hint of ice in her stomach. As Phil stared up at her she became aware that he as looking to her for some sort of explanation, but right in that moment she couldn’t even begin to vocalise the multitude of thoughts racing through her head. Instead of thinking, she decided to act.

Straightening her attire she swiftly marched to the door and flung it open. “Yes?”

On the other side was Lincoln, concern etched onto his face. For one insane moment Melinda was convinced that he knew of what had been happening in their private little chamber. “Majesty? May I enter?”

Melinda collected herself. “Of course.” She stepped aside and allowed Lincoln into the room, closing the door behind him. Phil had stood up from his chair and moved to the window, his hands behind his back, seeming for all intents and purposes to be inspecting the darkened landscape outside. He turned to face them. His face was unreadable.

“I have somewhat unfortunate tidings,” began Lincoln nervously. Melinda felt her already charged nerves spike. “I must apologise, I did not know of the arrangements until I was informed by Davis just now, when we were seeing to your belongings.”

“Arrangements?” asked Melinda.

Lincoln looked pained. “Your … sleeping arrangements. We had thought … I mean, I didn’t know that …”

“You were unaware that we have separate chambers?” Phil guessed quietly.

Lincoln nodded miserably. “Deepest, most sincerest apologies, but we did not plan for that. And … there is no other accommodation available. Everywhere is booked out and then some. Many of the rooms have used all the spare cots we have to lodge everyone. We just don’t have the space to move you.”

Melinda was already shaking her head, holding up one hand to slow Lincoln’s worried explanations. “Please, Lincoln. Do not trouble yourself. It was a miscommunication on our behalf that led us here, and so it is us who must apologise. I have no doubt that your lodgings will be as wonderful as usual, so please, ease your mind on the matter.” Though her words and actions were as smooth and controlled as ever, her heart was now pounding out a tattoo that could break bone. Her and Phil. Together. Sharing a bed. Even half an hour ago this prospect might’ve been an awkward yet doable duty but now … after whatever just passed between the two of them …

“Are you certain there is nowhere else?” asked Phil. “Not even some place in the stables?”

Melinda’s modification was swiftly replaced with a different, sharper mortification. “You are a _consort_ , Phillip! You will _not_ be sleeping in the barn!”

“I was just curious,” said Phil, but Melinda could hear his unspoken inquiry as if he had screamed it. _You just tore yourself from my embrace. Do you really wish to share a bed?_

No. If she was honest with herself, she didn’t. But they didn’t seem to have much choice here, at least not one that protocol and etiquette would approve of. Melinda grit her teeth. Protocol and etiquette. For others, not for them.

“Well, your gallantry is not needed here,” Melinda said testily. She turned to Lincoln. “I assume you prepared our room anyway, before you came to us?”

“Yes. Like I said, we just don’t have anywhere else to put you.”

She sighed and nodded. “I understand. Please, like I said, do not trouble yourself over this misunderstanding. I think we’ll just take a nightcap, then be up presently.” Melinda didn’t usually need a nightcap to sleep, but now she rather desperately felt like she needed just a hint of liquid courage before she retired that evening.

However, at that moment Phil calmly walked to the door. “Not for me, thank you. This meal is sitting rather heavily right now and I feel a short walk is needed before I retire this evening. If I may take your leave?” he said, turning to bow slightly towards Melinda. She nodded tightly, not certain of her voice, and he departed.

Melinda noticed how Lincoln watched his leaving with concern still etched on his face, and worried that the younger man might mistake Phil’s displeasure as being of his making. “Do not mind the lord, Lincoln,” she said soothingly. “He’s … just a little tired.”

“I understand.” Lincoln’s eyes snapped back to her. “I’ll have that nightcap sent up directly. And, once again, I’m so sorry for this … uncomfortable situation.”

Melinda allowed him to have the final word as he bow out and shut the door behind him. As soon as she was blessedly alone she sunk back into her chair, all the strength in her body draining out as she propped one elbow on the table and rested her head in her hand, closing her eyes against the firelight. She suddenly felt drained.

Unasked for, but probably provoked by her now solitary state, her mind drifted back to the sensation of being held by Phil. A flash of heat, more subtle than before but still thrilling, ran slowly through her, followed quickly but a sudden cold rush of shame. Of betrayal. Because as she had delighted in Phil’s arms her memories had unwittingly brought up a comparison. Had suddenly thrown up images of when she was calm and comforted in Andrew’s arms, the last man who’d held her like she was the most precious woman in existence. Andrew. She took in a shaky breath. She thought she had moved past this, had securely set those memories as just that — memories. Yet still, somehow, as she had revealed in Phil’s arms a sudden and nasty notion that she was betraying Andrew had risen up within her, sucking any joy from the room like an avalanche. And it shouldn’t have. Logically, she knew that this wasn’t a betrayal. That even Andrew wouldn’t have wanted her to spend the rest of her days cold and alone, that he would have encouraged her to find contentment with someone else. Yet … with all that sense, with all the time that had passed … she had still had that reaction when his arms had come around her.

A soft knock at the door announced the arrival of the nightcap, which she took without comment before settling back into her chair, staring into the fire, thinking.

She had wanted Phil to be honest with her. Now it turned out that she wasn’t even really being honest with herself. She thought she was ready to move forward, to open herself to the possibility of something new and scary and exciting with Phil and yet … her body wasn’t. Her soul, her heart. Whatever it was that felt that something wasn’t quite ready for the two of them, not just yet.

And now they were to share a bed that night.

Melinda downed the rest of her nightcap in one burning go.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Phil couldn’t believe it. After being cold all day, he was now too hot.

It was snowing properly now, heavy and silent, so his original plan of walking hard and fast for a while had to be re-adjusted for the dark whirls that gusted and blew all around the inn. He decided to go to the stables for a little while with the pretence of checking on the horses while he gave Melinda whatever space and time she needed after … whatever had just happened. As he walked in the high roofed barn he couldn’t help but notice that there were sleeping quarters there with an assortment of stablehands cheerfully drinking and chatting away at one end of the barn in the manner of those who enjoy a rough night here and there.

So there were places to sleep in the barn. Phil reminded himself to tell Melinda that, if only to try and ease that strange awkwardness that was bound to be between them. He smiled despite himself at the memory of Melinda’s scandalised face when he even mentioned sleeping with the common folk. He shook his head. Protocol and etiquette. He wasn’t sure he’d ever become fully accustomed to those never ending rules.

Phil slipped into the barn without being noticed and quietly made his way to where his horse was stabled. Lola was a beautiful tan mare who Phil was just beginning to worry about as she was now getting on a little and loved the cold just as much as he did. He hoped he wasn’t pushing her too hard with this royal tour and already had thoughts about putting her out to spend the rest of her days in pleasant fields after this was done. She was already dozing, though she roused herself momentarily in greeting when he entered her pen. Phil murmured a few words as he stroked her neck and checked to see that there wasn’t anything lacking for her. An unnecessary act, but he wasn’t ready to back inside just yet.

“Sir?”

Phil turned to see Lincoln standing nervously just outside the pen. “Oh, hello there. Just wanted to check on Lola before bed. That is,” he amended, catching himself. “Not that I have any doubts in your service. I just have a bit of a soft spot for her.”

That didn’t seem to ease the young man. “Excuse me, Coulson. Can we speak?”

Phil frowned. “Of course.”

“Privately,” stressed Lincoln. “There are things of a somewhat … delicate nature we need to discuss.”

His frown deepened. “Listen, if this is still about the sleeping arrangements —”

“It’s not.” Lincoln cut him off. “Please. Can we walk?”

Phil was more than a little taken aback, but followed Lincoln out nevertheless. He was surprised when he was led along the side of the stables and around to the back, walking into the freezing night, but he followed without question. Phil might only be armed with the small dagger he always kept in his boot but he felt like that would be enough for someone like Lincoln. Phil knew fighters when he saw one and although the was a tough edge to the young man, he still felt that in an all out battle skill would trump youth.

A sudden new sensation shocked Phil even more. The air about them began to feel warm, almost humid, and Phil stopped in his tracks as he felt the wisps of heat drift past through all the snow. “What is this?”

“If anyone asks, this is what you wanted to see,” said Lincoln, the light from the stables barely reaching them. “Thermal springs. It’s one of the reasons Merimbula was built in this location and something most visitors prioritise seeing. Although, not in such weather.”

Phil relaxed and then laughed at himself. “Oh. You know, I’ve dealt with such a wide variety of strange and unusual things that for some reason, my mind jumped to some odd conclusion rather than the most obvious. Thermal springs.” He shook his head, smiling. “So, what is so delicate that we need to discuss it in the snow?”

Lincoln looked at him hard. “Inhumans.”

Any levity about the situation evaporated. “What?”

“You need to listen carefully, because we shouldn’t be out here any longer than necessary. We don’t want to attract attention,” said Lincoln, speaking fast. “And even though you’re the damned consort and in the very middle of the court, I’m still taking this chance of trusting you because when you come down to it, you’re still an outsider. And one who has befriended Inhumans in the past. So please, please. Don’t make me regret this.”

“Regret what?”

Lincoln held his hand up, almost as if he were holding an invisible cup. Suddenly, bright blue sparks began to shoot between his fingertips, illuminating his face for just an instant before he closed his hand into a fist and extinguished the light. Even in the half-darkness, Phil could see that he was terrified by what he’d just done.

“You’re Inhuman,” Phil said redundantly.

Lincoln was shaking. “I am.”

“I thought Trillieon had no Inhumans.”

“We do.”

Phil took a step towards him. “What is this? What is going on?”

“I wish I knew!” said Lincoln. “About a year ago I changed, as did many others. But I was lucky with my change. It happened privately and just by simply looking at me, no-one can tell that I’m different. Others weren’t so lucky. I think. I don’t know, all I’ve heard are rumours!”

Phil felt unsettled, like he was standing on the edge of a cliff face. “Then what are the rumours?”

Lincoln’s face was pinched but when he started talking it was as if a years long frustration started pouring out of him. “I’ve heard whispers that there’s something hunting us. That it comes out of nowhere and sweeps up away _to_ nowhere. But it only takes the obvious ones, the ones who came out … malformed, so that makes me think that whatever is doing this doesn’t have innate knowledge of Inhumans, it just goes for what’s different. But those are just rumours. I mean, us Inhumans ourselves are nothing more than rumour in Trillieon! I thought for the longest time I was just the only one until —” He suddenly clamped his mouth shut, worried he’d said too much.

For Phil however, it wasn’t enough. “What you’re talking about almost seems like conspiracy. And if it’s so dangerous to speak of such things, why are you telling me?”

“Because of Quake,” said Lincoln as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He seemed to soften at the mention of her name. “We might be out in the sticks here, sir, but we still hear about what’s going on in the bigger towns. Specially if one of those towns has an Inhuman flying about.”

“Daisy doesn’t fly.”

“She does according to the stories. Which is the point. For the first time ever people around here are beginning to talk about Inhumans without fear or hatred, they’re just interested. Just the other day I overheard a few patrons actually wondering why Trillieon doesn’t have Inhumans, instead of just being thankful that we don’t. She’s changing things massively and she hasn’t even _tried_ yet!” Lincoln stopped, glancing around worriedly. “We’d better go back inside before someone notices we’re missing.”

Phil grabbed his arm as he made to leave. “Tell them I have an endless fascination with thermal pools. But really, why are you telling me all this? What do you hope to achieve?”

Lincoln grabbed the front of Phil’s jacket and pulled him close. “Isn’t it obvious? I need you to know that we’re here. I need you to know that we’re _scared_. And I need you to tell Quake that she’s in serious danger at Castle Moruya. She can’t trust anyone there, and you shouldn’t either.”

“I thought you said she was changing things already?”

“But things are ready to change with her yet!” countered Lincoln, now looking a little desperate. “Because we’re still disappearing, sir. Now they’re getting the ones who look normal because Quake is making a few of us _bold_. There were some of us who talked about revealing ourselves … I don’t know how, but whatever is looking for us found them. And it must have been because they spoke up. Even quietly. Even privately. And the only force within this domain that has the power to do something like that is the Guard.” That caught Phil off guard, and he froze. “You know it. To me, you’re right in the middle of the viper’s nest. So please, just know that we exist, that we need help, and that Quake needs to be warned that whatever is hunting us will one day come for her too.”

“Daisy can take care of herself,” said Phil almost on reflex. As those words left his mouth he had a terrible flashback to when he said nearly exactly the same thing to Gonzales. “But what about you?”

Lincoln gave a wry grin as he pulled himself free from Phil. “I’ve made it this far, haven’t I? But please … the inn?” Phil dropped his hands and slowly began to follow him back to the inn, but just before they had completely left the warm air of the spring Lincoln turned back. “You’re in danger too, you know. Trust no-one. Not even the Queen.”

That stopped him. “What?”

Lincoln gave him a stunned look. “I just said the only force that can be doing what it’s doing in Trillieon is the Guard! Who controls the Guard?”

“The Queen has no prejudices towards Inhumans, as she’s shown with Daisy.”

“One Inhuman,” countered Lincoln. “Carefully tucked away and mostly out of sight. She wasn’t even invited on this royal tour, was she? They say the Queen knows all that happens in her domain so how could she not know about this? Seriously,” he once again grabbed at Phil’s arm for emphasis. “Don’t. Trust her.”

They had now reached the back of the inn where a large courtyard led to the stables. Standing next to a barrel fire were Davis and Piper, who’s frigid guard duties that night were more formality than necessity. Phil felt like rolling his eyes. Protocol and etiquette. As they neared Lincoln dropped his grip into a more friendly handshake before letting go.

“Well, thanks for showing me around there, Campbell,” Phil said conversationally. “Another time I’d be more than eager to take a dip.”

“Ooh, did he show you the springs?” asked Piper excitedly. “They really are amazing. My nan says they’ve got healing properties to them too.”

“Don’t make me think about warmth,” complained Davis as he slapped his arms against his sides in an effort to stay warm.

“I’m going to have to leave you here, sir,” said Lincoln cooly. “There’s a few things I need to take care of before we lock up for the night. I hope you enjoyed our conversation?”

“Immensely. But I think I’ll take that nightcap now.”

They bowed to each other before separating. Once back inside Phil made a beeline for the bar to order his own nightcap, ignoring the fact that ordering one’s own drinks was probably against some sort of rule here. He needed a drink, and he needed it to be strong. As soon as it was prepared he returned back to the parlour where he and Melinda had had dinner and was sourly disappointed to find that it was empty, all the dishes cleared away. Still, maybe this was for the best. Phil shut himself away in the quiet room and started to think. And drink.

He’d suspected from the very beginning that the whole ‘there are no Inhumans in Trillieon’ was nonsense and while he had considered the idea that there was, or had been, a concentrated effort to keep them out it had admittedly been one of his more ‘worst case scenarios’ theory. But now it was unfortunately proving to be true. However, one thing he didn’t expect was how there seemed to be some sort of underground Trillieon Inhuman network. Lincoln obviously knew of other Inhumans even if he didn’t explicitly say so himself, so there were obviously some who knew each other and kept contact. But if some that Lincoln knew had disappeared — been taken — then why hadn’t the perpetrator come back for more? If the missing Inhumans were captured surely whoever had them would be interrogating them?

Unless they simply weren’t alive anymore.

A horrible but necessary thought. And one that turned his mind to Daisy. He knew she was a super-powered, incredibly smart and savvy young woman but still … he worried. He resolved to get a coded message to her as soon as possible, if only to give her a head’s up. However, given what she’d told him about her second encounter with that stranger — Robbie, she now called him — she was already on her guard. Robbie had told her she gave people _hope_. Lincoln said she made people _bold_. At least their two stories seemed to line up. But while Robbie was quietly confident, even to the point of accepting work at Moruya Castle, Lincoln seemed almost paranoid. But that could just be two different men’s reactions to an impossible situation.

Don’t trust the Queen. Those words keep smacking about the inside of his skull. Robbie seemed to be acting under the belief that Melinda was ignorant while Lincoln obviously thought she was culpable. Neither option was desirable. Don’t trust the Queen. Phil could almost laugh. Or smack his head against the table. He and Daisy had had nearly the same conversation just the night before he left, wondering at what point they should bring up these murmuring with Melinda. At the time Phil had argued against it, precisely because they would soon be travelling together for at least a month and the last thing they needed was the added stress of a possible conspiracy. But now … in less than a day there was another Inhuman coming out of the shadows, risking their safety to warn them … should he keep this from her?

This time he couldn’t help the small bubble of laughter that rose from within him. Keeping things from the Queen. That was his mission statement from the very beginning but now it was piling up. Keeping the fact from her that he was there on behalf of the Brotherhood of the Shield because they didn’t think Trillieon could or even would defend their boarders properly from Hydra invasion. That he was in place to take over the armies and direct them according to Shield’s objectives, not Trillieon’s … not Melinda’s. And the other thing that was more like an open secret now. His feelings for her. In a rush the memory of how she had felt against him rose like floodwaters to overcome him momentarily as he remember the feel of the fabric of her dress running through his fingers, her scent, the press of her body against his …

He shot back the rest of his drink and groaned, rubbing at his eyes. That was more than enough thinking. Could he really keep this Inhuman issue a secret too? Should he? He didn’t believe that she was working to destroy her own people, even if they were different … but then again, she didn’t believe that he would one day bring about the betrayal of her entire domain. Looks could lie, as he well knew. Still, it felt hypocritical not to trust her when she shouldn’t trust him. He could betray all of Trillieon’s Inhumans. He could gain an ally in this strange mystery.

A little bit of honesty. What was it worth?

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was much later that night that Phil finally managed to find his way upstairs to his room. _Their_ room. The inn had quietened down to sleepy murmurers and his footfalls felt suspiciously loud in that calm atmosphere as he slipped into their chambers, securing the door firmly behind him and listening ever so carefully to the movement of the inn before he was satisfied that they were alone.

He turned to the room. The only illumination came from the fireplace but it was still more than enough for him to find his way around. Their quarters were large and opulent for an inn this size, but still much smaller than anything in Moruya Castle. Phil could see Melinda, already in bed, and a lump rose unbidden in his throat as he observed her small form hidden away under the covers, turned away from him. He opened his mouth to talk — then thought again. Instead, he undressed noiselessly and quickly splashed some cool, cleansing water against his face before coming to sit at the foot of the bed, in the far corner from Melinda. He could tell that she wasn’t asleep so after a few moment’s he spoke.

“Melinda? We need to talk.”

There was a brief pause where she made no movement at all and Phil almost entertained the notion that she was about to play-pretend to be asleep to avoid an awkward conversation, something which would have made him smile rather than frustrate him. But soon he heard a soft sigh as she sat up, letting the covers pool around her waist.

“Yes. I rather thought we would.”

“It’s not about _that_ ,” said Phil, holding up his hand. He hesitated. “Unless … you want to talk about that …?”

“No,” said Melinda swiftly, then blushed. At least, he thought she might’ve in the dim light. “No, not really. Not yet.”

“Okay,” he said, lowering his hand. “Because what I really need to talk to you is about Lincoln Campbell.”

That she clearly was not expecting at all. “Lincoln?”

They spoke at length, and it turned out that both of them were wrong. Neither slept well that night at all.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like that! Slow ... burn ...
> 
> Also, this is unrelated but I just thought, what the heck? Guess what? I wrote and directed a short film that was entered into the SF3 competition -- and won the #Filmbreaker award for first time film-makers! That's one reason why I haven't been here as much. If you're curious you can watch it here if you like : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6JY4YCtEdZg
> 
> It's a comedy about a ghost who gets annoyed by ghost hunters. Not a lot of angst or romance, but a fun 6 mins if you're interested!
> 
> I know it's a funny thing to tack onto the end of a fic, but I'm kinda proud of it and seriously, it's been fic writing that got me interested in writing professionally which led me to write the script and so on. Ever kind comment and kudos helped get my confidence up to try something like this, so don't ever think your time is wasted with those lovely thoughts, they all mean so much to writers. So thank you, thank you!!!
> 
> I'm going to keep writing this, obviously -- I faked out a little with the 'there's only one bed' trope so I need to make that up!
> 
> x


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